#maybe i will convert some into angels actually.... would be cute

[lovmura]

LOVMURA OC POSTING ✨

💗 | comms | twitter | twitch  | youtube | kofi name labeled oc image under here

[prncssie]

LEMON TART!

caution! mdni! 11k wrdz, bie is a little bit obsessed with you, he is also a bit ooc :3, black reader <3, fem reader, someone tries to steal your car, pet names, sexual themes, fingering, oral ( f receiving ), overstimulation but barely, you get spanked like once, use of the word cunt, cunny, pussy, i mention you having something pink like eleven billion times bc i luv pink, yes i do add links for outfits but you can totes ignore them, think that’s all lmk if i missed smthing pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

The day he first laid eyes on you, he knew he wanted you.

You’re on your way home from your pilates class, blissfully unaware of the interested eyes on you. Dressed in a baby pink athletic set and glistening with the sheen of sweat, you take a swig of water from the matching pink bottle. The keys to your gray Jaguar convertible dangle at your fingertips.

Truthfully, Hobie doesn’t visit that area much. He’s only there to cure his boredom, in search of a quick fix. When there isn’t a lot of crime to stop or he decides that day he simply doesn’t care enough, he sits in shopping centers. He likes to play this little game and see how many kids he could keep from running into the street without their parents’ watchful eyes.

He has just gotten comfy on his perch after “saving” his third child when he spots you walking out the glass doors of some overpriced gym. The way the sun bounces off your melanated skin almost makes you seem saintly. He swears he even hears angelic singing in the background. Hobie can’t seem to keep his eyes off you while you prance into your car. His chest tugs when you disappear from his sight, seated behind tinted windows. He almost chases after you when you drive off, disappearing into the crowd of other civilians living their mundane lives.

Hobie finds himself having to restrain himself, gripping the ledge of the building. He is already hated in the public eye. No one appreciates his borderline heroic acts, although he wouldn’t call it that himself. They don’t even appreciate the riots he starts in the name of a better world. He couldn’t count the amount of times he’s saved the public from disastrous events but they didn’t care and he didn’t mind. Hobie actually prefers to deviate from what was accepted but he fells this would be too far. To follow an innocent woman on her way home? He would never cross that line, in costume or not.

Instead, he opts for visiting this location every Wednesday at 10:27 AM. Just ten minutes before your class would be released and you’d walk out wearing some cute color that made you look tempting. Each time, you’d be glowing with the aftereffects of a workout and each time he’d have to restrain himself from tailing you. It was his routine. He’d always be in his spot and you’d always be in yours, lives never intersecting.

Until.

Wednesday at 10:24 AM, Hobie sits in his spot. Sometimes he’d look off in the distance and daydream about your future together, sometimes he’d stare at the glass windows and hope to catch a glimpse of you on your way out. It’s just as sunshiney as any other day, the birds accompanying his thoughts of euphoria to spend forever with you.

He kicks his feet over the side of the ledge and swings them aimlessly. Time couldn’t pass any slower, could it? Keeping you from each other, from maybe possibly crossing paths just this once. The thought made him smile. As if you’d ever cross paths. Too many risks with that one.

His eyes land on a man wandering in the parking lot. There is nothing particularly interesting about him but Hobie still feels that itch in his palms, the tickle on the back of his neck. He tilts his head to the side and observes the man slowly making his way through the parking lot. He seems to take a particular interest in the cars across the street. The man never actually touches the cars. He just takes a peak at the back of them, maybe the rear window. It can easily be mistaken for searching for his car in the lot but there isn’t that much traffic. Not to mention, Hobie has enough practice to know better.

He watches the man take one final peak at a familiar gray convertible. So familiar he could spout the license plate off the top of his head or point out the Hello Kitty sticker on the bumper in a room full of them.

Sure Hobie would have swung over even if it wasn’t your car but he couldn’t ignore the intense tug at his heart. He fwips his web over to a light pole and jumps off the building without a second thought. To be honest, he didn’t truly have a plan. The only sound he can hear is the rushing blood in his head and the alarm bells ringing at the back of his brain. Hobie knows he has to stop him and that’s all he has going for him.

“What’cha up to here, man.” He lands on the pavement behind the man, hands on his hips and gesturing to the scene. “Anything I can help with?”

The man’s head snaps up to meet Spider Punk's eyes. He licks his lips and his hand drops hesitantly to his back pocket. “I can’t find the keys to my car and I wanted to see if the doors were unlocked, you know? New technology and this whole push to start thing.”

“Mmm.” Hobie leans forward and peers inside the windows. While he already knew the small details you allowed him indirect access to, he didn’t need everyone else knowing Spider-punk has an infatuation. “You drive a car with a pink steering wheel cover and princess sticker on the dashboard? No judgment.”

The man only huffs. He bucks up to Hobie, nearly shoving him out the way to get to the door handle. “Listen man, I’m just trying to get in my car. What’s it to you? It’s not yours.”

“No but it’s mine.”

Both heads turn to spot you, standing a safe distance away. Your eyebrows are knit together and you're gripping your similarly pink gym bag. You’re wearing a gray set today, hair slicked back and tied down with a matching gray scarf. “What is going on here?”

You feel a burning feeling in your heart, accompanied with the bubbling anxiousness prickling your skin and causing you to sweat a bit more. “What are you doing to my car?”

“Fucking hell.” The man grumbles distastefully. He doesn’t get a chance to run away, already being blasted against the neighboring car and restrained by thick webs. His body is sure to leave a small dent on the door but everyone knows Spider Punk isn’t exactly neat with his approach.

You look accusingly between Hobie and the perpetrator. Of course the one in the getup wasn’t trying to commit grand theft auto but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have hurt your baby. You paid a pretty penny for her and it isn’t like he has the best track record. “What are you doing?” You restate from your safe spot.

Hobie’s mouth goes dry. Absolutely dry. If he tries to say anything right now the only thing that will leave his lips will be embarrassing squeaks. He is usually so much more composed than this. It isn’t like he doesn’t have women flocking to him constantly and occasionally, he does entertain them. He has enough life experience to run a brothel and here he is, getting cotton mouthed at the pretty girl he’s been watching for the last few weeks.

A breeze blows by and he gets a whiff of vanilla.

“Well?”

“I . . . uh . . . I caught him trying to break in so I intercepted. I didn’t know it was yours. You might want to call the police.”

“Oh my gosh, of course.” You reach into the front pocket to pull out your phone. How fitting to have a bedazzled case, pink and silver in a gleaming heart. “Did he get in or take anything or break anything? I don’t know what to do. I’ve never had anyone steal my car before. Do I need to call my lawyer? Are we going to court or something?” You’re rambling and rushing, messily punching in the numbers. Your heartbeat is finally starting to dull but the warm rushing has yet to cease.

“You have a lawyer?” He supposes it makes sense. Although most people he knows don't have a lawyer on call, you would be someone who would. You must come from an affluent family with the whole driving Jaguars and having lawyers thing.

You pause, sniffing a bit. “Yeah…?” You sideways glance to nothing before meeting his eyes again.

There is a beat of silence between you both.

“Right. Anyway, no. He didn’t take anything. I’ve been patrolling the area and caught him before he did. Just, uh, finish up calling the police and report this guy.” Hobie felt kind of naked. He may have been fully dressed but he is itching to find somewhere to put his hands. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have his jacket to hide them in so he crosses his arms instead.

“No, yeah. I will. Thank you so much. Is there something I can do to repay you? I feel a bit stupid and I left my car unlocked. I could, like, give you cash or something? You could get lunch.”

Oh, you’re just as sweet up close. The slight concern and guilt in your eyes. The way they sparkle and dance across his mask. Maybe you are trying to figure out who he is or engrave this moment in your memory like he is.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I don’t need your money. I don’t take people’s money anyway.” He’s not quite sure if it conveys through the mask but he smiles. Gentle and honest. “Jus’ stay out of trouble and lock your doors, yeah?”

You dip your head sheepishly. How humiliating it is to have a crimestopper tell you something so obvious. It makes your stomach churn with embarrassment and your cheeks flush with warmth but you acknowledge his warning. It’s hard not to when he said it in such a buttery voice. You wonder if he looks as good as he sounds.

Hobie takes this opportunity to make a smooth exit, swinging away into the distance with his heart in his ears and a ridiculous grin on his face. He feels like a kid in the candy shop all over again. Except instead of being presented with a bunch of different options, he is presented with his favorite option.

It’s unbelievable that the previous parallel life lines finally crossed. Sure, it’s due to circumstances Hobie prefer you never experienced but they crossed nevertheless. He saved the girl of his dreams from the big bad monster and saw her smile mere steps away. Got to see the radiant aura you emit and the brilliant warmth that just has to have an effect on everyone around you.

That must be the reason you were targeted today. Even the worst people can’t ignore the huge target on your back. They are drawn in by the invisible tiara on your head and the glow of your cheeks. They can feel there was a princess in their presence and feel desperate to tear that innocence apart. That just won’t do. Hobie has to protect you from their rotten doings. You are untouchable, too perfect to be tainted. He can’t risk their dirt and grime coming near you. Sure, he feels somewhat obligated to protect everyone but there is no one at greater risk than you. No one as flawless, as pure.

You are clearly too silly to take care of yourself and you should be. The world should bend at your will and do what you want. It is foolish to expect you to look over your shoulder or lift a finger for your wellbeing. Someone should do that for you and that someone should be him.

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖

You appear to be completely oblivious to the outside world, too busy aiding your stumbling friend out of the club and into the Uber with one hand on her back and the other holding her hand. Her heels are long gone and in the hands of your other friend. All of your attention is completely devoted to her wellbeing but you can’t ignore the nagging feeling on the back of your neck.

It’s been there the past few days and only makes you feel more paranoid. There has been a sudden spike in Spider Punk appearances near you, a sudden spike in dangerous situations you have found yourself in. It’s as if you can’t take five steps out of your apartment without Spider Punk swinging through to save civilians from dangers you weren’t previously aware of. In some situations, it’s you.

Once again, you give the world behind you a fleeting look over your shoulder. As usual, you are only greeted with traffic and the night sky, full of glistening stars. See? You’re just being ludicrous. There’s no crazed monster trailing you and there is no need to feel so paranoid.

“☆,” your friend is whining in your ear. Her head is slumped over and rolling, accompanied by her groans. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“Oh, please don’t.” You let go of her hand to lift her head. Your eyes met hers, glazed from tears and bloodshot. “It would be so much better if you waited until we got you home.” You pat her cheek in hopes the feeling will distract her drunken mind from the sloshing alcohol in her stomach. It’s a weak attempt however it’s still an attempt. “If you throw up, they won’t let you in the car.”

Lottie can only cry out in irritation. “I am never going to drink alcohol ever again. It feels like Satan’s ass is in my stomach.” Her head lolls onto your shoulder. Her blonde locs are draped all over you and you indulge in the small amount of warmth provided.

“Don’t worry about it, ☆. I can get her home by myself. You live in the other direction and I’m staying over there tonight, anyway.” Rico has to look over Lottie’s shriveled form to meet your eyes. She looks apologetic about her girlfriend’s condition but you shrug it off and shake your head.

“No, it’s okay. I want to make sure you guys get home safe and Lottie is gone. I don’t mind, really.” You’re almost insistent when you tell her. As concerned as you sound, deep down you know it is truly because you don’t want to go home on your own. You can’t shake the feeling that someone has their eyes on you from a distance and the last thing you want was to walk home on a busy night, alone.

Rico pulls the black Honda’s door open and ushers Lottie inside as smoothly as she can. “You’re such a sweetheart but you really don’t have to. We live thirty minutes in the opposite direction and these prices are obnoxious at this time of night. Just go home and call me as soon as you get there.”

You purse your lips. You have no intention of spending any money tonight to get home. You already spent the last of what you could to get in the club. You are just waiting for your dad to send you your weekly allowance. You can admit, you are a bit dumb with your money and your rules but can you really be to blame? You were born with a gold spoon in your month and no conception of how money works. Between lavish parties with socialites and getting anything you’ve ever asked for, you don’t have the best idea of what the world is like. However, your allowance is for fun and your paychecks are for household expenses. Is it your fault that you make much more in your allowance and could blow through it in a week if you wanted? Not at all.

“Okay,” you provide Rico with a less than satisfying tight smile. “Text me when you get home, Ri. I’ll drop your stuff off tomorrow. And let me know how Lottie is doing. Her hangover is gonna be insane.”

Rico is barely concerned with responding back. She’s both trying to wriggle her way into the car without disturbing the drunken girl and get them both safely buckled and situated. “M’kay. I’ll call you.”

“Bye, ☆! I love you so much!” The producer of the shriek is leaning against the coolness of the opposite window, reaching out symbolically to grab you. “You’re one of my best friends in the entire world and I don’t know what I would do withou –”

“Okay, bye!” Rico glances at you apologetically for the last time. Then, the door is slammed. The last you see is her hand comfortingly patting against her girlfriend’s thigh.

You watch the car drive away and sigh as a chill settles under your skin. Of course you don’t realize how truly cold it was outside until the warmth of your night has disappeared down the street. Not to mention what shots you did consume wore off the moment Lottie went off the rails. No longer could you enjoy your buzz. Instead, you have to get her home.

It ‘s a bit comical. Being marginally afraid of getting home alone on Halloween night. To be honest, this isn’t really how you planned your night to go. You were supposed to go out tonight with your friends and return back home with a guy. You were the tightest top you had with the smallest skirt you could find on purpose but now you are regretting it, standing on the sidewalk in fifty degree weather. And still, that sick, creeping feeling is nestled on the nape of your neck.

You scrunch your face in displeasure before starting your trek home. Fortunately, your luxury apartment was only fifteen minutes away and the city was still very much active. The only reason you feel an inkling of nervousness is due to the unusual feeling.

Your arms are tightly wrapped around yourself and you brush it off. It has to be nothing. There is no way you have such a persistent stalker who follows you everywhere. Sure, that is the definition of a stalker but it can’t happen to you, can it? It can’t. You simply won’t allow it.

You mumble about your irritation and tilt your gaze to the sky. The stars were beautiful but there was just something off about tonight. Maybe not in the sky but it feels like something is going to happen. As if you’re waiting to be a piece in a climatic story.

You grunt when someone brushes against you a bit too hard and meet the eyes of someone caught just as off guard as you.

“Sorry,” you speak in passing. Immediately after you find yourself cursing at yourself for being so careless. Pay attention when you walk. It’s a rule as old as time and naturally, you have a hard time following it.

You stop to take a break, maybe get out of your head. You’re leaning against the brick wall and pull out your phone. Perhaps it would be better to walk with some music. Keep you distracted from losing your mind over nothing. Or maybe not. Walking with noise in your ears while being paranoid, post robbery? Probably not a good idea.

Your fingers are fumbling across your phone screen. At this point, you’re ready to drop an extra band just to get an Uber. Already, you’re shivering from lack of physical activity. Occasionally, you can feel the weird glances from passing men, spotting a nearly vulnerable girl on the edge of sidewalk.

You’re just about to confirm your ride when a familiar tattered suit begins a slow stride towards you. Like a stunned idiot, anxious out of her mind, you squint at him. Not that you need particular aid seeing such a detailed and colorful suit, but it is a bit difficult to tell if that was the true Spider Punk or if a superfan decided to spend their entire savings on a high quality costume.

Fortunately for you, you got your confirmation.

“Yo? Aren’t you the girl with the car? The really nice one?”

“Huh?”

His voice is velvet in your ears, almost melting away your nervousness. Is it because he’s saved you in the past or because you just found yourself especially enamored by the richness of it all?

“Like, two weeks ago. Didn’t I help you out with your car and that guy?” As if you were longtime friends, Spider Punk strolls up to you. His hands are snug comfortably in the pockets in his fashionably tattered vest and for the first time, it truly registers just how tall he is.

You have to tilt your head up to view him, almost completely and it makes you feel particularly shy. Your words get caught in your throat, although you’re aware of the increasing time ticking between his question and your delayed response.

Spider Punk doesn’t fill the silence, however. He simply stands there with his head cocked to the side. His patience doesn’t help your fragile grasp on your sanity.

“Oh, uh yeah. Probably. I decided to press charges n’ stuff.” You wet your lips and turn your head away. At this rate, you are going to explode. This is overwhelming, stressful. You should be home right now. “What are you doing walking around? I thought superheroes weren’t supposed to be in public, like that.”

“Ah,” you see him turn his face to the sky and a chuckle leaves his lips. Even if you can’t see his face, you know he’s smiling. It’s obvious in how his mask pulls. “I never said I was a superhero, sweetheart. I just like protecting the people I care about.”

Your eyes meet again but instead of feeling flustered, you’re facing him with confusion. Was there an undertone or did he happen to be in the right place at the right time? “Oh. Okay. That’s cool.”

He doesn’t allow for a second of silence, springing the next question onto you almost immediately. “What are you doing here? It’s getting a bit late and pretty girls like you should be at home out of harm's way.”

“I . . . what?”

There’s another patience silence. Clearly, he isn’t interested in your stumbling and stuttering. You’re getting the point, now.

“I’m on my way home but I’m a bit shaken up. I’ve never been in that type of confrontation before.” Admittedly, you haven’t experienced any confrontation. Rich girl living in a bubble and assuming she is untouchable. Pretty typical. It isn’t something you would admit to most people. Had it been anyone else, anyone who hasn’t seen some pretty crazy crimes, you would have just chalked it up to anxiety due to lack of sleep.

“Mmm,” Spider Punk takes a glance over his shoulder. Considering the night, no one is paying any attention to him. Like you, they assume he put a ton of hard work into that costume. “Would you like me to escort you back home? I’m just patrolling, anyway.”

“I thought you do this for people you care about.” Your smile is slow growing, both from the reassurance that he’ll be able to work as your bodyguard for the passing moments and to lighten the mood.

“I do.”

“Oh.” It wavered just as slowly as it developed.

“I can do both. Like I said, I’m just patrolling.” He shrugs. His hands are drawn from his pockets and gently guide you to begin your journey to your apartment. Although you can’t see it, you can feel the size on the small of your back. If he truly wanted, he could probably crush your skull. The thought itself isn’t all that attractive but when it leads to other suggestions on where he could put them or what he could do with them is where the real fun begins.

The walk back is voiceless. Sounds of the city fill the space where a conversation would be. You feel twitchy, hyper aware of the situation. There’s probably a serious conflict happening somewhere, and here you are hogging safety all to yourself.

“You really don’t have to do this. I can make it home myself or get a ride or something.” You twirl a passion twist around your finger, narrowing in on the loose ends slowly unraveling. That nagging feeling is gone with him by your side.

He nods and you miss his eyes lingering on the top of your head, slowly raking over your form and drinking in the details. “You probably can. I’ve been swinging through, though and you’ve been in the same spot for five minutes.” The pale green color of your top looks alluring on your skin, along with the pink flowers decorating the hem. Oh, how angelic you are. “What are you supposed to be?”

Your refusal to look and acknowledge him doesn’t go unnoticed but he doesn’t press about it. In his eyes, this is a rare opportunity to burn you and your absoluteness into his memory. He’s only been able to hear the sweetness of your voice twice now, directed to him. Stolen conversations and hidden glances weren’t truly enough.

“Nothing special. A sprite or an elf or something. I haven’t decided yet.” You’re looking at your own Halloween costume now. A bit silly to not know what you were after parading around in it but it’s cute and that’s all that matters. The night is over, any and it’s not like anyone is truly that curious. “What are you doing walking around? I know you said you’re patrolling but aren’t you concerned about being followed?”

“Eh,” the thought really rolls off his shoulders, “look around. There’s dozens of me everywhere. They’d have to go and target every single one and no one wants to do that. Too busy celebrating with their families or being miserable they don’t have one.”

The conversation kind of dies there. It gets a bit awkward, walking side by side with someone you barely met. Little do you know, Spider Punk knows you like the back of his hand. He’s practically vibrating with excitement. Of course, he planned to insert himself into your life eventually but tonight was not the way he thought it would go. However, it’s better than he imagined. Walking his favorite girl to the safety of her living space, although he already knew where you live.

He’s been there almost every night, perched on the ledge of the roof of the building across the street. He knows he said he wouldn’t but that’s where you are most vulnerable. There, he would sit, watching you walk here and there, dilly dally through your night routine. Finally, when you would get comfortable under the plush duvet and set your phone down on your nightstand is when he’d consider leaving. He’d make his departure only when you are sound asleep, drifting off into your dreamspace.

But tonight, tonight he gets to walk with you. Would it be too much to hope you invite him in? He could fake a cough for a glass of water and take a mental picture of your space from a first person view, only to go home and completely map it out on paper. How would he protect you if he didn’t know every miniscule detail about your life? He is the only thing standing between you and the evilness in this world.

The silence grows oddly comfortable. Spider Punk is too deep in thought but only he knows what about. You’re relishing in the fact that you truly haven’t felt comfort like this in a while. No longer does it feel like someone is watching you from a distance. After a while, you’re both approaching the bright lights in the lobby.

“This is my stop.” You stand with your arms clasped behind your back. It’s evident you need your keycard to get in but digging into your chest to pull it out wasn’t too appealing, right now. “I can make my way in so you can leave now. Thank you so much for walking me home.”

Hobie tilts his head. Under his mask, he’s awfully disappointed. As if he’d let you dance your way out of this. “I’ll walk you to your door. Gotta finish my job completely, ☆.”

You don’t remember telling him your name but he probably got it the last time you saw each other. Maybe superheroes just know that kind of stuff.

“You don’t have to do that!” You only tighten your grip behind your back. “I’m fine and our security is really good. I’m home now so it’s okay.” You shift under his stare and his silence. Is he always like this? Stubborn and refusing to argue back? “So you can go now…”

“Or you can open the door.” He crosses his arms and shifts his weight to his side. You are certain if he didn’t have that mask on, he would be glaring at you right now. This has to be the sassiest man you know. He’s doing quite a bit just to walk you to your door.

You grumble some complaints and turn away, angling your body away from him and the glass doors. Your focus is the doors, though. The chances of you running into the residents are significantly higher than running into Spider Punk, again. You didn’t want your poor neighbors to be scarred with the image of you digging in between your boobs for your keycard. You turn back around to catch him just barely averting his gaze. At his height, it wasn’t too hard to peek over your shoulder and the temptation was just undeniable.

Your lips are pressed into a pout while you swipe the plastic square. The excitement bubbling in your stomach from attention is impossible to ignore but you lie to yourself and insist you’re so deeply bothered, you can feel it.

Like the gentleman he is, Spider Punk takes the door from you. He holds it open, following behind closely through the doorway. “Damn, this is nice.” He lets out a low whistle. His head draws a slow circle at the high ceilings and the floor to ceiling windows. “You really live like this, princess?”

You pout harder at his question. The amazement is normal, of course, but still. Somehow it all makes you feel alien, especially with the pet name attached. “Obviously.” You make a beeline to the elevator in an attempt to avoid the curious gazes directed your way.

With his long legs and therefore long stride, he doesn’t have to put in any effort to maintain your speed. “What’s the attitude for? Didn’t know I was offending you.” It’s difficult to tell whether or not he’s taunting you. It sounds sincere but somehow you doubt it.

“There is no attitude.” You retaliate back. You’re relentlessly jamming your finger on the elevator button. “You asked if I live here, I said obviously. That’s it.” Truthfully, not even you are sure what the bite back is for. First, you didn’t appreciate how he asked about your building. Then, you just found yourself stuck here. Really, this is all his fault.

Spider Punk leans against the wall beside you. His big boots scuff the floor beneath him but otherwise, he seems unphased. “Mmm,” he hums. His head lolls to the side. Your side. You’re ignoring the intense stare he’s giving you and you regret rushing the elevator now.

The door opens with a ding. Both fortunately and unfortunately, there are people already in it. While that means you don’t have to face whatever thoughts he has brewing to your response, you do have to deal with the awkwardness in front of a group of people, some of whom are too nosey for their own good.

As a result, the ride up is quiet. All the up to the fifty-second floor, neither of you speak a word. The door opens and you step out, noting that even in his brooding silence, Spider Punk lets you go first. Had it been any other man, a normal man, you would have ditched him at the front door but a “hero” wouldn’t come in and bombard you in your own space.

He follows you to your door, trailing on your heels. It’s unnerving how silent he is. He doesn’t look bothered but he merely watches you move. Watch you use your keycard to open your door, watch you turn the handle, and watch you turn your head back to his. “Okay. I’m home now.”

“Yeah. Obviously.” He retorts with a hint of a mocking tone. Clearly, he still feels a bit dishonored by your previous choice in tone. “I’m waiting for you to walk in. Like I said, gotta finish my job completely.”

“Oh. Right. You definitely said that before.” You sheepishly smile. The door to your apartment is pushed open, giving him a wide view of the pinked out living room. Not surprisingly enough, there are plenty of pastel colors, sanrio memorabilia, and flowers all over the place.

Shiny, white heated floors, stuffed animals strewn about. Plenty of comforting blankets and a flower shaped floor cushion in the corner. Looks just like you.

“I’d tell you how nice your place is but I don’t want you to bite my head off.”

Your shoulders drop, followed by an exasperated sigh. There is no way to explain he’s the reason you’re snappy and flustered. Him and his deep voice and calming nature. Him and his chivalry and big hands. “I’m sorry for how I spoke to you. Thank you for your compliment.”

Spider Punk turns his head up as if he’s miffed but the corners of his mask pull into a small smile. “It’s fine. Couldn’t stay too mad at ya, anyway. Could I come in? You know, to use your bathroom. I’ll leave right after but night patrolling is a pretty big job and I have needs, too.”

You’re hesitant, glancing over your shoulder. You really shouldn’t. Your better judgment is screaming at you for allowing this to continue this far. Despite his supposed nobility, he is a man and you live alone. Still, he walked you all the way home and saved your baby the other day.

“Um, sure.” You push your door open farther. The much taller man saunters right in as if he’s all too familiar with the place.

He stops in the entryway. Once again, his hands have found their way into his pockets. “Which way am I going, sweetheart?” He’s got a pretty rough guideline of the direction but he couldn’t tell you that. You’d never speak to him again.

“It’s just down the hall, that way. It’ll be on your left.” You’re still undoing the straps of your heels, one hand on the wall to maintain your balance. The last time you checked, the guest bathroom is in perfect order. How fortunate all your friends gather in your room and use your bathroom, instead. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be right back.”

You linger around just to watch him enter the bathroom before escaping to your room. In an ideal world, you’d be home alone and jump right into the shower. However, with a stranger within your property, you would much rather stick around to ensure he promptly makes his exit.

Once your feet touch the plush rug by your vanity, you begin un-readying yourself. Your butt-length twists are going up haphazardly into a bun. You’re pulling the hoops out your ears and the strip lashes off your eyes. The makeup remained, however. You were never the biggest fan of makeup wipes. They’re wasteful and never really get into your skin the way you want. Your skincare routine is much more thorough than that.

You pad your way over to your closet and pull out one of your pullover robes. With a quick glance casted at the door to safeguard your privacy, you begin peeling your clothes off you. Your top is tossed in the direction of your hamper before you’re moving onto the flowy brown skirt.

That’s when you see him.

You’re bent over, skirt halfway down your legs. Shirtless, braless, tits all out on display. You feel like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide and frozen. You know he’s looking at you. His mask is pointed directly at you and even though you can’t see his expression, he has to be just as frozen as you are.

You snap back up, skirt coming up with you. You’re refusing to turn around, hands cupping your breasts while you reach for the robe. Your cheeks are burning and you have no idea if he’s still there or not. You didn’t hear any heavy footsteps, any boots smacking against the floor.

“You didn’t have to stop the show, ☆. I wasn’t expecting a strip tease but can’t say I don’t like it.”

You’re bumbling to pull the robe over your head. The fabric rolls and gets caught on itself but you’re persistent, tugging and pulling in all kinds of directions. “What are you doing here? This is the complete opposite direction of the bathroom.” You don’t turn around, not now, not ever. Instead, you tug on your hair next until the bun is loose and misshapen enough to mold and fit under the hood of the robe.

“You told me to tell you if I needed anything. I’m done and I’m leaving. Just happened to hear you make noise and rustling in here.”

You can hear him closing the space between you. Can feel the weight of his boots though the floor and his presence when he is eventually standing behind you. “Don’t gotta be shy about it. I’ve seen plenty in my life.” He knows it doesn’t sound the best or come out as comforting but his thoughts are a bit fogged over.

Sure, sometimes he gets glimpses of your body through your window but it’s nothing like this. You are always sure to change out of view or close your curtains, opening them when you’re finished. Sometimes he’d see the bottom of your ass peeking through your shorts. Sometimes he was lucky enough to see you parading around in tiny tops. Definitely didn’t compare to seeing your body up close.

“Gee, thanks. Is that supposed to make me feel better?” You scowling and muttering under your breath. You turn, finally, ignoring the burn of your cheeks and the rush of blood throughout your body. You’re ready to give him some sort of spiel about respecting your space and guiding him out the door but your voice is caught in your throat.

“Getting tired of the attitude, darlin’. You’re usually so sweet.” He’s so statuesque, towering over you. With his close proximity, to actually look you in the eyes, his chin is grazing his chest.

You encase your bottom lip between your teeth. If you were an idiot, which you might be for pushing this, you would have noticed the change in the air. Tensions, probably, growing much thicker than they should. “Usually?”

He doesn’t further explain. Instead, his eyes drift over to your discarded top in the corner. “What is with you tonight, ☆? You’re always so sweet. Did something happen while you were at the club? Or was it on the way back before I got you?”

“What? How did you know where I was?” Your eyes grow wide and your stomach churns. That feeling that someone was observing you from a distance, was that him? Who did you just invite in?

He ignores your question. Instead, he has a seat on the ottoman behind him with a sigh. He’s way too comfortable in your home. “Close the curtains, would you?”

You blink slowly. Nothing about this makes sense. His comfortability is unnerving and you hate the way he’s giving you requests in your own apartment you pay for. “I’m sorry? You want me to close my curtains?”

Spider Punk runs his hand down the front of his face. Your constant putting up a fight is exhausting him. He only has but so much unwavering patience, especially when he’s been anticipating this moment. “Yes, love. It would be really helpful if you could close the curtains so I can take my mask off.” He’s resorting to speaking to you like a child, slow and pitchy.

“Wait, what?” His confession to want to unmask right here, right now distracted you completely. You may not know much about his profession but you know that he is never to do. Doing right here in your apartment? That doesn’t sound quite right. “Why?”

“Oh my days!” He groans and in one swift motion, ejects his web to pull the white, blackout curtains shut. “I ask you to do one thing. One simple thing. Had you closed the curtains, I would have told you.” Spider Punk pulls his mask just as quickly as he closes the curtains. Beneath it, he reveals to you the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

Dark chocolate skin as glowy as ever and equally dark eyes. His face is adorned with methodically placed piercings. A spider bite, a nose ring, a couple of ear and eyebrow piercings. Despite the laws of physics, his mask completely hid the length of the bulk of his locs. They fell all around, framing his face and between his eyes. Your knees buckle when he looks at you.

“Come here and please do it without the mouth. I’m doing my best and you’re really getting in the way of that.”

You feel like your body moves on it’s own. What’s possessed you to be so pliant, you have no idea. You know this is wrong, know that there is something unbalanced about this. There’s such a pretty man looking at you though, with the expectation that you can do no wrong. Who are you to deny yourself of indulging in the moment, especially when your earlier plans to get dicked down were foiled when you prioritized the health of your inebriated friend. You’ll deal with the consequences later.

You’re suddenly standing in front of him before you realize and his hands fly up to your hips. Gently, he’s pushing you to the ground, only stopping when you’re kneeling in front of him. “I’m going to ask you once. What’s bothering you, pretty girl? You had a weird temperament all night and I know it’s something. You’ve never been this way before.”

You tilt your head, unintentionally pushing your cheek father into his hand. He runs his thumb over the chub of it and you can feel the rough calluses graze against your skin. “I don’t understand. You only met me twice.” Your eyelashes brush against his fingers.

“Mhm. We’ve only officially met twice. That’s not the answer to my question, though.” His hands leave your cheeks and snake around your waist, rubbing the expansion of your back, down to your hips.

You’re awfully unsatisfied with his reply and nearly push him for more until you feel the harsh squeeze on your ass. You can feel your pussy lips separating and the thin cloth of your panties is quick to stick to the thin layer of slick between your legs. The discomfort makes you squirm and though it doesn’t go unnoticed, it is ignored.

“Nothing is wrong,” you finally say. “I’m fine. Just anxious, I guess.” Your eyes are downcast to hide the lie in your eyes. You’re sure he knows the real reason and will try to drag it out of you but that’s a risk you’re willing to take.

SLAP! His hand rains down on your left cheek. He grins when you whimper and lean forward in an attempt to evade his grasp. “Don’t lie to me. You’re not talking to me like this because you're anxious. What is it?”

Your head hangs low in anticipation. You don’t know how to find the words to say but you’re very aware the time is ticking. “I . . . It’s because . . .” Your following explanation is nothing but a mumble, too embarrassed to say it confidently.

“Didn’t hear you, pretty girl. Gotta speak up.” From behind, his hand yanks down the hood and gives a correctional tug to your hair until you’re facing him again. “Tell Hobie what’s botherin’ you.”

You want to pout and whine. Your stance is uncomfortable but the pull on your scalp is delicious. You can’t decide if you’re angry with him for putting you in the position or enjoying it so much you want to play your role. “It’s ‘cause I don’t know what to do around you. You make me nervous.”

At this, he perks up. It has the opposite effect on you. His grip tightens and the pull increases. He leans forward, his lips ghost over the space between your neck. “Do I? That’s not nice though, is it? Haven’t done anything to you. Didn’t put you in danger. Walked you home, made sure you’re safe and sound. I don’t deserve that, do I?”

“No,” Your speech is shaky when he attaches his lips to your skin. Your hands are on his thighs, holding on to what little sanity you have left. It is entirely too easy to get lost in this, in him. Even when he’s doing little to nothing, you can feel him and his warmth everywhere. You press your thighs together to alleviate the gentle throb of your clit.

“Didn’t think so.”

It comes as a surprise to you when you’re suddenly bare. The cloth previously on your body is tugged off without a second thought. Your brain is spinning in an attempt to catch up. The breeze of the air entices your nipples to slowly erect. They’re budding enough to catch Hobie’s attention. He gently rolls them between his fingers, using this as an opportunity to monitor your expression. “When’s the last time someone touched you, pretty? The last time someone had you creamin’ on their shit.”

Your face is contorting in poorly hidden pleasure. You’re doing your best to maintain solid ground, occasionally pressing your legs into each other and rubbing them back and forth. He’s teasing, playing with you slowly and you hated it but you weren’t one to voice your opinion. “Mm, I- I just lost my virginity a few months ago so...”

“You poor little thing.” His voice is dripping with content. Hobie tenderly kisses your forehead. He removes his hands from your body. “Stand up, why don’t you? Let me help you out, doll.”

To no one’s surprise, there is no hesitation or lip service with this request. You’re quick to stand up, disregarding your eagerness and mostly naked body in front of his calmness and fully dressed self. You’re almost beaming when Hobie’s hands find purchase at you again. He’s tugging down both your skirt and black mesh panties. He doesn’t even have to ask you to aid him in removing them. You step out of the materials accordingly and kick them across the room.

He moves you around himself, pulling your body against his. Your hands are moved to rest against his shoulders and your leg is lifted onto the space beside him. “Stay just how I put you.” Hobie looks at you through his eyelashes. He kisses the inside of your thigh. really taking his time to draw out the soft gasps as he made his way closer to your core. Hobie nips and bites at your skin on the way there. Occasionally, he leaves teeth marks behind. It’s only proper to leave something to remember him by in case he doesn’t get this opportunity again.

He has a grip with your thigh but the other hand wanders. It brushes up your leg and your stomach. It glides behind your back and fondles with the globes of your ass, pushing and kneading. It comes back around and slips between your legs. They softly run through against your folds and collect your wetness on the pads of his fingers.

You hum, almost ready to push against him. He’s taking this entirely too slow and it’s driving you crazy. “Hobie, please.” You whine. If you didn’t know any better, you’d push his hand in yourself.

He chuckles and pats your cunny. He can hear the moisture smacking and sloshing around under his fingertips. “Patience, angel. I’m gonna take care of her, promise.” Just as he promises, he pushes a finger deep inside you. You’re moan matches, slightly drawn out and slightly wobbly. Just as you suspected, his hands are huge. His fingers are thick and long. One hand could probably cover the majority of your torso. Having them sink so deeply into you is making you delirious.

“Well shit,” he massages your hip. His eyes are trained on your pussy. He’s entranced with the act of it, with his fingers drawing out more and more juices, with your pleas and pleasurable noises above his head. “You’re soaked.” It doesn’t take long for him to work you up to two fingers, slotting it next to the other.

You’re practically dripping down herself, grip tightening on his shoulders. You’re appreciative of his continuous grip on your leg because if it were your way, you wouldn’t be able to stand still. Not when he was constantly brushing against that spot you could barely reach yourself. “Oh my god, ‘Bie. There!” Your body falls forward, barely being held up when he continues to drill into you.

“Yeah? Feels good?” He doesn’t give you a chance to reply. Rather, he’s slouching underneath your body, tongue latching onto your clit. His eyes are barely lidded at the first taste. He swears you taste like a summer day, of strawberries and whip cream. He could spend all night here, drinking you in. It’s like his ears are stuffed with cotton. He can’t hear you. He can’t even hear himself moaning against your skin.

Hobie pulls his fingers out of you, ignoring your dissatisfied whines. In his right mind, he would have shushed you with gentle kisses and reassurance but he couldn’t form the words to. One taste got him pussydrunk and now he couldn’t stop.

Hobie scoots back onto your bed, clawing at your body to maintain the proximity. His eyes are wild and he doesn’t say a single thing. It’s obvious what he wants, though, when he lays back and yanks you on top of him. You shriek in surprise, nearly falling over his body. He has you situated, facing the growing tent in his pants.

“A warning would have been a little helpful.” You speak as if trying to lighten the mood, not realizing just how far gone Hobie really was. He only grunts in response and relocates your hips back over his face. One small taste is not enough. He was determined to get more out of you, as much as he wants. His arms hook you into places before he absolutely dives in.

And he was messy with it.

Hobie didn’t care if there was spit everywhere. He didn’t care if he drowns in it. In fact, he would love to. His tongue licks a fat stripe on your cunt. He can cum in his pants from the taste and your own moans. This is where he is meant to be, he’s sure of it. He’s only been here for a few minutes, seconds maybe, but he’s never felt more right.

He tongue probs around your entrance, experimentally. You gasp with a shaky breath, clenching the sheets. It encourages him to follow through, slurping and tongue fucking you. His vice grip keeps you settled. With how much you were squirming, you would have moved off or too far by now.

“Fucking- gonna-!” You can’t form your mouth around your words. Your brain is fuzzy with the intense bliss building in your core. You’re nearly ready to burst when Hobie begins rapid small circles on your bundle of nerves. You throw your head back, hair whipping free and falling all in his face but that’s the least of his worries. Not when you unintentionally push your hips down, allowing his tongue to push deeper and his fingers to pull more.

With one final nudge of his tongue and jerk of his fingers, you’re creaming all over his face. He’s grateful to lap it up, allowing you to ride through your high. He removes his fingers from what he’s sure is your now sensitive clit and his hands take their place on your hips. You shudder, and despite his wishes, eventually pry his hands off you. “I can’t.” You drag your body off his. Your chest heaves as you get comfortable on your back. You can still feel your cunny throbbing but she’s in no shape to be touched right now. “Too sensitive.”

If Hobie’s face says one thing, it’s that he’s displeased. He rolls over and looms over you, staring you down. His locs fall in his face but he doesn’t look bothered by it. He’s too busy hooking an arm under yours and moving you closer to the headboard. “Nah. I think you got a few more in you.”

Your eyes flash as he lifts you with ease. “Yeah, in a second.” You’re already ready to push him back, glare on deck. Before he even lets go of your side, he’s forced your hands to the headboard and webbed them in place.

“Can’t trust you to sit still and let me work.” Hobie hurriedly pecks your lips. “Won’t be too long so don’t be too mad at me.” He flashes you a smile as he retreats. You think he’s going to leave you until he begins his dance of removing his spidersuit. The stretchy material peels right off him and he’s back between your legs, resting on his shoulders.

Hobie doesn’t bother looking at you. He’s smiling at your cunny, just as glistening as when he left him. “Can’t believe you tried to keep me away from her. Just look at how much she missed me?” He plunges his finger inside you again, only to scoop up some of your cum and drag it out. “Breaking my heart, ☆.”

Your legs nearly close, leg’s drawing together at the knees. He draws out a mewl out of you, your body contorting in all different directions. “You’re so mean to me.” You whine, jerking even more so when Hobie delivers a slap on your pussy.

He feigns an apologetic expression, forcing your legs apart again. “I’m so mean to you? I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you.” He lowers his head against your skin. Like the previous time, he’s pacifying on your clit again but it’s stronger. He’s determined, gaining momentum and pumping his tongue in your slit. You can’t help but tighten around his tongue, back arching against the wood. Was his tongue extra long or were you unable to maintain your composure?

Hobie is understanding, though. He takes it upon himself to keep you where he wants you. Despite your squirming and pushing, he pushes down on your stomach. With full access, he slurps and suckles. It’s an endless stream coming from your heavenly pussy and that’s just how he likes it. Hobie drinks it all in as if he was a starved man.

He pushes your legs wider, farther, curling and compacting your body. He folds you until your knees are nearly touching your ears. You swear you can feel your heartbeat ricocheting through your toes at this point. You’re tugging at the makeshift restraints. “Ohhh my god,” your eyes squeeze shut. Your breath catches in your throat when he strikes just the right spot, still spongy from your last orgasm.

Hobie peeks up at you, smirking into your folds. You’re just as pretty as he imagined. Prettier. Even with your eyes screwed closed and your skin glossed over with a thin layer of sweat.

You tug your hands again, straining to touch him. “Don’t stop! Please, please, please,” you chant. Your own nails dig into your skin, acrylics scratching the surface. The burn is a distant thought. “Let me touch you. I need – I need to touch you.”

Hobie messily kisses your slit when your essence leaks out and smears across your thighs. “Cum and I’ll think about it.”

His bruising grip on your hip keeps your lower body still. Despite his somewhat lanky frame, he’s still adorned with the basic spider-man muscles. Not to mention his habits kept him fit with all the swinging through the city and climbing on walls he does.

Your only surface to find purchase in is your headboard. Your nails scratch the wood and you’re sure you’ll regret it later but it’s the last thing in your mind. Not when hobie is alternating between his tongue and his fingers. He’s bumping against your clit strategically. Your body is fighting against his strength, wanting to arch and wriggle.

You press your head harder into the hard surface behind you, grateful for your hair acting as a pillow. Your toes begin to curl and once again, your legs are attempting to force their way together.

Hobie only forces them open farther. He displays his displeasure by wrapping his lips around your clit. He’s watching you through his eyelashes, growing more irritated with each squirm. You’re moving too much and it’s making it harder for him.

You don’t notice, not when you’re gasping for air. You draw in one big breath, the release prompting the synchronized release of your cum. Your chest is heaving, brushing against tbe tops go your thighs. Your body shakes and shudders at his relentless to fuck you through it.

“You’re makin’ this more difficult than it needs to be,” Hobie rises from his position between your legs. He kneels in front of your and languidly strokes his fingers inside you. It’s not enough pressure or movement to draw anything out of you but he can’t help it, can’t stop. “Sit still.”

The waterline of your eyes are just barely teary. You sniff, twisting your wrists under the webs. “I can’t. Tried to tell you. You didn’t listen.” You resist a pout by pressing your lips together. “Can you let my hands out now?”

It’s as if he didn’t hear you when he leans forward and kisses the corner of your lips. Hobie’s weight shifts underneath you and your question goes unanswered. You’re committing to your pout, eyes narrowing. “Hello? Are you gonna or what?”

Hobie pauses. His eyes are locked onto yours with his head tilted as if to say are you sure about that? “You makin’ demands now?” He pulls his raging dick out of his boxers. Too nervous to, you don’t let your gaze wander downwards. Still, you can tell his mushroom tip is puffy and leaking down his shaft. He may not have the girthiest dick but it’s long and swollen, craving your tight little cunt.

Your mouth slightly drops open when he rubs it through your folds. You’re silent and pliant, maybe out of nervousness for the situation you found yourself in. Of course he takes advantage of this.

“Hm? You tellin’ me what to do?” He reiterates his question, just barely pushing his tip back inside you, only to slip it out when you mewl. He isn’t surprised when you don’t answer. He’s already moving your legs farther down. He’s hungrily watching the way your pussy envelopes and welcomes him in. “Fuck, baby. You’re tighter than I imagined.” Even after him working you soft, you’re still just as flesh against him.

He can feel your walls spasm when he give an experimentally shallow thrust. You reel, falling nearly limp just from how deep he is. The position, the mating press he has you in gives him direct access to the deepest parts of you. Hobie doesn’t have to try too hard to reach your g-spot, just shy of hitting your cervix.

He massages the backs of your thighs, smugly taking in this vulnerable side about you. “How can I let you out if you can’t even take this. Can’t have you fighting me.”

Even in his best dreams, he didn’t think you’d feel this good. Didn’t think he’d be balls deep in his favorite girl Halloween night. Hr breathes sharply, eyes closing to truly focus on his pleasure. The small amount of sanity and restraint he’s been holding on to all night is slipping out of his reach, especially when he begins slow thrusts into you. You can’t move, not even if you wanted to. Not when he has you caged in, limiting your movement.

His hips stutter the first time you clock around him. “Fuck,” Hobie clenches his teeth. His tidy nails create little crescents in your skin. If he could push you into the mattress more, he would have. He needed to be so deep inside you that your bodies had no choice but to fuse together. He wants your body to remember his, to remember the shape of his cock, to maintain is so he can come back to soften you into putty again.

“Stop tryin’ to push me away.” Hobie spits out. He can feel your legs pushing against his hands and he hates it. It only makes him tighten his grip until he’s sure you’ll forever has his handprints there.

“Too much!” You hiccup. Tears fall over your cheeks as his pace picks up. He’s nonstop nudging your cervix, going way deeper than your last fuck months ago. You could just explode, pulling and pushing to find a position to alleviate the pressure but no matter where you go, Hobie is everywhere.

He doesn’t know where to focus. Your face, your tits, the spot where you were connected. His senses are overwhelmed. “Can’t be. I’m barely doing anything.” He’s vigorously plowing into you. The slap of skin between your bodies is an absolute symphony to him.

Your moans beg to differ, booming in the air of your room. The possibility of your neighbors hearing you is a distant thought. You couldn’t give a shit about them and their discomfort. They haven’t had the sexiest man alive fuck them into insanity.

You also don’t have to tell him you’re on the brink of release, not when you’re damn near cutting his dick in half. He’s forced to still, much to his displeasure. “Poor little thing.” Hobie fakes his pity. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder. “Look at me when I make you cum.” He demands, waiting until he’s certain your eyes are trained on him to dribble spit on your soaking cunt.

His thumb follows, easily gliding rapid ministrations across it. It’s all over the place, his thighs and yours. The smell of your sex feels the air. He’s intoxicated.

Your eyes are barely open but you’re doing your best. Your heartbeat races as you wind up tighter. Your mouth drops open but you can’t speak. Can’t say a thing. It’s all too paralyzing. The only sound you can make are hums of encouragement until one final thrust pushes you over the edge.

You convulse, a water stream comes flushing out your cunny. The webs over your wrist are the only thing that keeps you from clinging onto his chest when you jerk forward.

It comes so quickly, Hobie is yanking his cock out of you. He hovers over your body, furiously fisting it until ropes of his own cum flies out and decorates your chest. He’s out of breath, expectantly. It took all of his efforts to devour you as he really wanted.

You’re just as exhausted, lying limp and silent. At some point, your legs are softly placed back on the mattress and he removes the sticky web keeping you in place.

In an ideal world, he’d do it again but there’s no way you can handle it. He reckons he’s already pushed you past your limit.

“Come back to me, pretty girl.” He massages your side. In contrast to his previous behavior, his hands are gentle. They soothe the dim ache settling into your muscles. “There you go. Come back to me.”

Hobie waits until you’re settled, waits until you’re smiling weakly. “Where’s your towels at?” His limited view from your window never showed him your linen closet. All he knows is that it’s somewhere in the hallway.

You shake your head and push yourself into seating. “I’d rather just shower.” You say. Your face contorts for a second at the feelings of your legs recovering from that punishing stretch. You don’t even have a moment to react before Hobie is grabbing at you again.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything? Should I help you?” His hands are at your waist again. You quizzically stare at him while he fusses over your frame. It’s not like it changes anything. He know what he did to you.

“No, no I’m just but . . . how do you know my name. Or where I was today?” Flashbacks of your conversation play through your head. You suddenly feel gross with the possibility that you just fucked a creep despite said creep being extremely attractive.

Hobie pressed his lips together. He tilts his head away while his eyes bounce off your white walls. He pushes his locs out of his eyes, seeming to weigh his words. “Well, mm, ever since we met that one time, you’re just everywhere I go.” He’s totally lying and he knows that but you don’t need to. If he told you the truth, you’d probably beat his ass in.

“What?”

He peeks over at you before becoming super interested in the fabric of your pink sheets. “Yeah. You don’t notice but I run into you a lot and your friends are kinda loud, y’know?” He picks off a piece of lint. “So I just caught it one day, I guess. ‘Nd like I said, I was patrolling the area. Saw you come out.” His story sounds bad, oddly strung together. He knows. But he also knows you’re a bit dumb, a bit too trusting. You let him in your apartment to pee, for christ’s sake.

“Oh,” you nod. Just as expected, you believe him. At least enough to let it go and ignore what concern you may feel. “And you did this because? I mean, you don’t do this with everyone you just meet do you?”

In your defense, you are just a civilian. You live a somewhat normal life. This sounds like a completely reasonable explanation, although you are hyper aware of the fact that you were are it naked. It bothers you that Hobie doesn’t care.

He’s lax, rubbing the silk cloth between his fingers. The corners of his mouth are upturned and you have to fight the urge to ask him what’s funny. “No. Just you. I wouldn’t wanna do this with anyone else. Thought that was pretty obvious.”

You suppose it could be, though it doesn’t make sense to you. Maybe you aren’t sure how to wrap your head around the situation. So you don’t say anything in return. You just hum and nod because what were you supposed to say? This isn’t an everyday occurrence and you certainly weren’t expecting Spider Punk himself, tonight.

“Listen,” Hobie starts, “this is a lot, I know. Weren’t expecting it or whatever but at some point, you’re gonna miss me.” He grins all wide and smug. He is smug. He knows the impression he left behind. He knows what you like, what gets you going. You’ll miss him. “All I’m going to do is leave my number here, ‘kay? It’s completely up to you.”

You don’t like his arrogance. You don’t like it even more when he stands and strides right up to your nightstand. As he scribbles his number on your stack of sticky notes, you swear to yourself that you’re gonna throw it away. He’s too confident your your liking, too sure of himself. It’s almost as if he knows you’re not gonna get the memory of him plowing into you in a few weeks.

Not to his surprise, you don’t. It only takes him a few days before he’s hearing from you again, all hesitant and precious when you invite him over. And of course, he goes. Who was he to deny your right? Especially when the day he first laid eyes on you, he knew he wanted you.

[jikookiekosmos]

Use My Best Colors For Your Portrait || jjk

➥Pairing: best friend!jungkook/reader, boyfriend!jungkook/reader, artist!jungkook

➥Summary: After surprising Jungkook with his own studio room for his paintings, he couldn’t be any more over the moon. All’s well and good until he’s struggling to find inspiration...which you happily provide him with. He’s ecstatic to find his muse in you, and painting your portrait brings him so much joy. Things take a turn however, when he suddenly realizes what else he wants to paint.

➥Genre: established relationship, tiny bit of angst if you squint, fluff, smut

➥Rating: 18+

➥Words: ~7.9k (small drabbles don’t exist for me apparently, oops)

➥Content warnings: most of this at the beginning is just cute fluff domestic times (finally not much angst!), blonde jungkook, jk ties his hair up at some point (my weakness), jk puts paints on the reader, making out, slight hair pulling, cursing, shower sex times, jungkook has a big dick, oral (m. receiving), very slight mouth fucking, dirty talk, fingering (very brief), unprotected sex (safe sex is great sex), biting, cumming inside, cute times in the shower, jungkook is actually the sweetest, reader and jk are so in love with each other it hurts, also jk saying ‘only for you’ is a thing i started and can’t stop now oops

A/N: hello! This is part of my Only for You (OFY) Drabble series, but it can be read as a stand-alone! Their relationship will make a lot more sense though if you’ve read OFY beforehand. This fic takes place roughly around six months after the events of OFY (so in between that and the dream drabble I also posted).

Once again, thank you to @dntaewithluv​ for her endless support and always giving me feedback, I forever appreciate you and your friendship is more than I could ever ask for 💜

I’ve written a few other drabbles and will list them below, along with a general timeline:

When I Dream of You - ~1 year after OFY

Stay With Me - a few months after the dream drabble

Also, I hope that if you read this, you enjoy it~

➥OFY Spotify Playlist (songs I listened to for inspo)

➥Series Masterlist

➥All Works Masterlist

taglist: @inlovewiththemoonn​

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You would do absolutely anything in the world for Jeon Jungkook.

Seeing him happy had to be at the top of your list of favorite things in the world, as it had been for many years as his best friend, and now in the several months since the two of you started dating. Some things just never changed, you guessed.

Which is why you took it upon yourself to change one of the spare rooms in the house you two were renting into a space where he could thrive as the artist he was. Initially, the two of you thought it would be nice to use that space as a work area for you, since your job required you to sometimes do work from home. And for a little while, that’s exactly what you did.

But ever since you found out Jungkook liked to paint – scratch that, he loved to paint, and had been doing so for longer than you thought – the gears started turning in your head.

The current space he was using to create his art was definitely less than ideal. The house had a decent sized garage area, so there was enough room for him to store his supplies and be able to paint without it being too much of an issue. The downside, though, was it was cramped and even though Jungkook said he didn’t mind it, you still couldn’t help the frown from masking your features whenever you saw him huddled up so close to his easel.

For the last few weeks, and with lots of help from internet searches, you’d been slowly converting your space into something like a studio. You didn’t have to worry about Jungkook finding out, either, since he very rarely went into that room seeing as he had no reason to. He respected your privacy the same as you respected his, so this made everything infinitely easier for you in the long run.

The day had finally arrived where you would show the new space to Jungkook. Everything was set up as perfect as you could manage it – at least you hoped so – and you were dying of excitement to show him as soon as possible.

You were also, however, incredibly nervous at the same time. What if he didn’t like it? Even worse, what if he hated it?

Of course, you knew deep down that there was no way Jungkook could hate anything you ever did, unless it was something horrible, but you worried about everything because that’s just how you were. So, when the two of you were sitting at the dinner table one night, you tried hard to swallow the lump in your throat as you listened to Jungkook talk about his newest work.

“I really think you’re gonna like how this one turns out, angel.” Jungkook was offering you a sweet smile as he went to grab another bite of food from his plate. You managed to smile back, despite the hammering of your heart against your chest. He was basically handing you the perfect opening for you to segue the conversation!

“I know I’ll love it, Koo.” You watched as his small smile turned into a full grin, his nose scrunching up in that adorable way that had you falling in love with him all over again every time you saw it.

“Speaking of your paintings,” you started off, clearing your throat while he swallowed down his food. He looked at you with his undivided attention and it made your heart skip a beat.

Ok let’s be real, every damn thing this man did made your heart skip a beat.

“Yeah? What about them?” He twirled more of the noodles around his fork while he waited on your answer.

You gulped. “Wouldn’t you like it if you had more space?”

Jungkook chuckled and placed his fork down, shaking his head as he placed on hand on top of yours that was still resting by your plate. You’d barely touched your food and he noticed.

“Baby,” he started, “as much as I would love to have a bigger space, what I have now is just fine. I know you think it’s stifling my creativity in there, but I’m still creating things and am comfortable.” He squeezed you hand gently before returning to his food.

“I get that you think the garage is fine but what if I told you that- that you could have a bigger workspace.” You finally picked up your fork and were poking around at your own food now, avoiding his gaze. You could feel his stare boring into you regardless, though.

“I mean – yeah, hypothetically I could have more space, but it’s not in the cards for us right now and that’s ok, too. Maybe one day.”

The way he always was optimistic about your future together made you feel warm all over. Jungkook liked to look on the bright side of every situation, and it’s been enough to help you keep your own wits about yourself numerous times now.

But this time you wanted to show him that the future could be closer than he realized.

“Koo, can you come with me real quick? I have something I want to show you.”

You didn’t miss the confused look that flashed across his face for a second before his calm demeanor took over again.

“Of course.” He hopped up from the table, that smile you adored now plastered on his face. “Lead the way.”

“Ok but I also need you to close your eyes.” You reached out to take his hand and were rewarded with an eyebrow raise.

He hummed thoughtfully but did as you asked, closing his eyes and grasping your hand tighter so you could lead him wherever you planned to.

You walked through the house pulling him behind you, feeling your heartbeat quicken with every step to where its pace was almost concerning. Whether or not it was mostly from excitement or nervousness, you weren’t sure.

You finally reached your destination and let go of his hand so you could open the door.

“Keep your eyes closed, ok,” you asked. Jungkook simply nodded and you saw a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He had no idea what you were about to show him, but knowing you and how much he loved pretty much anything you did, he was sure it’d probably make him happy.

And he couldn’t have been more correct in his assumption.

At the quiet sound of you telling him he could open his eyes he did so, slowly at first, blinking to adjust to the light the now flooded over the both of you. It took him several seconds to register exactly what he was seeing, and when he did he couldn’t speak. All he could do was stare around the room, mouth agape.

Decorating the walls were the paintings he had given you, beautiful works of various sizes and themes. Alongside the far wall was a tall shelf that housed all his supplies (how had you managed to get them past him without him noticing?), and even some new things like paints he’d been eyeing for a while and other tools he hadn’t had a chance to get himself yet.

But in the middle of the room stood his easel and chair, set up in the similar fashion as it had been in the garage. His apron was draped across the back of the chair, and there was even tarp laid out underneath the workspace. You research had paid off because everything was set up in such a way that it created the perfect atmosphere for Jungkook’s creativity to shine through in ways it hadn’t been able to before.

You weren’t aware of this yet, however, because you were still watching Jungkook’s reaction. He still hadn’t said anything, and as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, you started to wonder if this was the right call-

Strong arms were pulling you up from the ground and spinning you around before you could process it, making you squeal with delight as Jungkook twirled you before bringing you back down to pepper kisses all over you face.

“Angel, I can’t believe this, you did all this for me?” He was still holding onto your hips tightly, beaming as he looked down at you. Your nod and giggle was all the confirmation he needed before he pulled you into another kiss, this one slightly more heated than the ones before.

“Do you like it,” you questioned when the both of you pulled away to breathe. Jungkook laughed before taking your face in his hands and brushing his nose along yours.

“Do I like it? Baby, I love it. It’s perfect! Thank you so much.” Another kiss. “I love it and I love you, I love you so fucking much.”

His happiness made your heart soar and you definitely knew that you’d do something like this an infinite amount of times if it meant he’d keep that smile on his face.

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A few weeks passed by and Jungkook had been using his new studio nearly everyday at this point. His creations had been increasing in numbers and he was starting to receive commissions from others thanks to his small online shop he’d set up with your help. He still worked at the bar as his primary job, but he was also grateful to have a hobby on the side that could potentially yield something lucrative.

Of course, Jungkook’s increase in his time spent on his art still didn’t take away from his time with you. If anything, it gave the both of you another way to spend time together, since now there was enough space for you to sit in and observe him paint when you couldn’t before. You often sat quietly and either did some of your own work or engaged in your own hobbies while he painted, and it was always peaceful.

There came a day, though, that you never thought you’d experience: Jungkook had run out of inspiration. He’d hit his first real artist’s block and it was taking a bigger toll on him than he would’ve liked.

You rubbed his shoulders as he sat in front of his easel one night, groaning in frustration about his current work. “It’s not turning out at all like I want it to. I’ve been struggling with finding new inspiration and it clearly shows in whatever this is.” He vaguely gestured to the canvas, prompting you to place a kiss on his cheek as you ran your hand through his pretty blonde hair. You knew that always helped to calm him down and this case was no exception.

Jungkook sighed heavily, turning to place a kiss on your palm that was still lingering around his face. “Sorry, I don’t mean to get worked up. It just sucks, you know? I’d been on this really good streak of creating things and now I just…can’t. It’s weird and I don’t like it.” He pouted slightly and the sight made you giggle.

“I know, baby, but you’ll figure something out. You always do.” You placed a kiss on top of his head before you walked around to sit on his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and one of his hands cradled your waist to steady you.

He was humming thoughtfully as he looked you up and down, your hands now playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“What are you thinking about?”

He smiled slyly. “You.”

You rolled you eyes before returning the smile. “Ok, what about me? I’m curious.”

His hand was rubbing up and down your side. “Nothing in particular, just usually looking at you can help me with inspiration.”

His confession made you gasp. “Really?”

He nodded and smiled wider. “Really. You inspire me a lot.” He placed a chaste kiss on your lips before sighing again. “This time though it’s not really working like I’d hoped.”

You watched his eyes close and his brows furrow before an idea popped into your head. “Hey,” you reached down to tilt his chin up so he’d look at you, “It might be a long shot, but: have you ever considered painting portraits?”

He pursed his lips as he thought about it. The simple act made you want to kiss him but now wasn’t the time.

“Honestly…no. I’ve never thought about it before because I usually prefer to paint scenery.”

You searched his eyes as you asked your next question. “Well, if you want to try, maybe you could paint me? Even if it doesn’t go anywhere, maybe it can help spark a new idea or something?”

You watched as his eyes slowly lit up at your suggestion, his face morphing into a smile that you mirrored.

“That’s a great idea! It’s something new and it also includes you, so I already love it.” You chuckled in his lap as he hugged you closer, placing a small kiss on your neck. “Thank you.”

You ran your hands through his hair again before leaning back. “Anything for you. Do you want to start now?”

He thought about it for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, we can do that. Is there, uh – was there something specific you wanted to wear for it?”

You wiggled your eyebrows suggestively. “Are you suggesting you want to paint a nude portrait?”

Even though Jungkook knew your body better than you did at this point, your words still managed to make him blush as he groaned. “No, I wasn’t thinking that- not that I’d mind of course just you know, whatever makes you comfortable-”

You laughed at his flustered nature before hopping off his lap. “You’re so cute. I’ll go find something to change into, it shouldn’t take long.”

“R-right,” he stuttered, still clearly somewhat affected by what you had said. You shook your head with amusement as you went to your bedroom to find something to wear. You settled for a purple dress that you knew Jungkook loved, and considering a lot of his paintings involved shades of purple and blue, you figured it would be perfect.

You knew you made the right choice when you stepped back into the room and saw Jungkook’s face when his eyes fell on you. He looked like he’d never seen someone so beautiful (he looked at you like that a lot and it always did something to you) and your lips curled upwards into a smile before you could realize it.

You stopped in the doorway and twirled, giving him a full view of the dress. “Is this ok?”

You already knew the answer, but it was always nice to hear him say it.

He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, it’s perfect. You can, uh, you can take a seat whenever you’re ready.”

While you were changing, Jungkook had pulled one of the loveseats from the living room into the space so you’d have somewhere to sit or lay while he painted you. The loveseat was a dark blue color and it contrasted beautifully against the color of your dress. You decided to lay on it in a comfortable pose, and you couldn’t help the small giggle you let out at Jungkook’s reaction to your choice.

You had laid an arm behind your head, turning your face so you were looking at him while the rest of your body was sprawled out on the loveseat. One of your legs dangled over the side, making the skirt of your dress hike up somewhat. You were very comfortable, and Jungkook was very happy with your pose.

“Make it pretty, ok,” you joked with him. He smirked at your comment.

“You know I will. I’ll use my best colors, just for you.”

“Wow, I feel special,” you quipped back. You were rewarded with the sound of his beautiful laughter as it echoed off the walls.

“You’re the most special,” he admitted honestly. You gave him a brilliant smile and he felt his heart stutter.

With the way you were looking at him, Jungkook thought that if he didn’t start painting, he may never start. So, he forced himself to tear his eyes away from you so he could find the paints he needed to get started. He tied up his hair, a few of the blonde strands escaped and framed his face but he didn’t seem to mind it too much as he got to work.

Thankfully, since you’d chosen a good position, the process was easier than you thought it would be. You just had to lie there and watch him work, which you happily did. You enjoyed watching his face scrunch up in concentration before relaxing again as he brushed stroke after stroke onto the canvas.

You were so beyond proud of him that it made your heart swell inside your chest.

Jungkook had been painting for a little over half an hour before he announced it was time to take a break. He could paint for hours on end without stopping, but that was when he didn’t have a live subject he was working with. He walked over to you with a bottle of water so you could sip from it without having to disturb your position too much.

You sat up slightly so you could drink, and while you did so, one of your dress straps started falling down your arm. Jungkook immediately went to move it back into place, but as he did, he couldn’t help but stare at the dark contrast of the purple satin against your skin. He thought it was so pretty, and his mind started wandering to how the paint itself might look-

He shook his head to rid himself of the thought. He may have been covered in paint himself, but that didn’t mean he needed to go putting paint on you.

When you were re-situated on the loveseat once more, Jungkook strolled back over to this easel. Unfortunately, since that thought of you covered in paint first took up residence inside his head, he now found it hard to focus on anything else. While he stared at you to try and resume your portrait, he just kept picturing you with painted streaks covering your skin instead.

You must have noticed he was distracted because soon you were calling over to him. “Kook? Is something wrong?”

He gulped and shook his head. “No, nothing’s wrong! You’re doing great, baby.”

“Do you need me some other way?”

Such a simple statement and yet it was stirring something inside of him. Asking him if he needed you a certain way ignited that desire to once again paint you and he found himself unable to hold back from asking anymore.

“Yeah, I uh, I wanted to try something.” You were confused when he got up and started walking toward you, only carrying his paint supplies. At first you thought maybe he just wanted to get closer, but he didn’t bring the easel with him.

“What are you wanting to try,” your voice was laced with curiosity. He gave you a shy smile.

“I was just thinking about how pretty it would be,” he looked down at the floor then back up at your face before he continued, “if I used you as a canvas instead.”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat at the request. Jungkook was asking to paint you, not paint you on a portrait, but to paint you. The suggestion intrigued you a lot more than you thought it would, which is ultimately what led to you nodding your agreement. “I think I’d like to try that, too.”

Jungkook’s face broke into such a dazzling smile that excited you to no end. You watched as he pulled his chair close to you, as well as some tarp to place around the area. When he was situated where he wanted to be, he dipped his brush into some of the purple paint on his palette and gently lifted your arm. The feeling of the paint as it brushed along your arm was foreign but not unwelcome. There was something about it that was almost calming.

You were now also recalling all the times you’d told Jungkook how pretty he looked even covered in paint. The pretty colors contrasting with his beautiful, golden skin tone never failed to take your breath away no matter how many times you saw it. You wondered briefly if this is what he was experiencing now as he took his time painting your skin.

He was focusing on your with such intensity and taking great care to only get the paint where he wanted it, so as to not stain certain parts of you or your dress. The sight of his caution made that familiar warmth bloom in your chest again.

He took his time painting beautiful designs along your arm before moving down to paint on your thighs and legs. He was alternating between purple and blue hues now, and the swirling patterns reminded you a lot of his tattoos that you adored. You had spent many nights lying next to him in bed, tracing the lines of his tattoos until you were too sleepy to keep it up. Seeing the patterns against your own skin briefly made you think about if you would ever want to get a tattoo. Before you put too much thought into it, your attention was pulled back to Jungkook who was sitting up now and admiring his work.

The time had passed by much quicker than you anticipated, and it was starting to get dark outside as the light was no longer filtering in through the windows of the room.

He seemed satisfied as he nodded and smiled. “Wait here, I’ll be right back. Stay just like this,” he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before leaving the room. When he returned, he had his coveted polaroid camera in his hands. Jungkook was also big into photography, and every one of his hobbies suited him perfectly in some way.

“Is it ok if I take a photo of you, baby?”

You grinned and nodded, being careful not to move too much from your current position. He snapped the photo and the polaroid was printing immediately after. When he pulled it from the camera, he laid it down on the table next to his easel so it could develop properly.

Jungkook wiped his hands off on his apron before taking it off and drawing his attention back to you. He could stare at you like this all day, but he knew it would probably be best to get you both cleaned up and paint-free.

He offered a hand for you so he could help pull you off the loveseat. When you were up fully, he wrapped his arms around you, careful to not get any of his exposed, paint-covered skin on your dress.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he murmured softly, brushing some of your hair out of your face as his eyes scanned up and down your body to admire his creation. “And as much as I love seeing it, we should probably get this paint off soon. When it dries too much, it can be a bitch to scrub off, and I don’t want that for you.”

You chuckled at that and simply nodded your head. You’d been lying there for nearly 2 hours at this point, so you were pretty tired and ready to just relax for the night.

The two of you hopped into the shower shortly after, helping each other rid your bodies of the remnants of paint covering you both. You always loved taking showers with Jungkook, because whether or not it was a short, regular shower, or one shared after a night of intimacy, these moments were some that you cherished the most and wouldn’t change for the world.

You got lost in the feeling of Jungkook scrubbing shampoo into your hair, letting out soft noises as your eyes slipped closed.

Your noises always threatened to drive Jungkook crazy, and this time was no exception. He couldn’t deny the stirring of his cock as he listened to the little moans slipping from your mouth at such a simple action.

Of course, since he was so close to you, there was no way you didn’t feel him. His cock was hardening against your thigh, and the fact that you were turning him on by not doing much turned you on.

You could feel the wetness start to slip past your folds, but you decided to not make any moves yet, wondering how far you could take this before either of you snapped. You knew that teasing him was one of the quickest ways to get Jungkook riled up.

“Feels so good, Koo,” you shamelessly moaned out as he kept massaging the shampoo into your hair. You heard him let out a small grunt at your deliberate words, feeling him twitch against your thigh as he got harder.

You leaned your head back to give him a better view of your neck, since you knew he loved to mark you up there. His hands were starting to tangle in your hair, but he took care to not pull too hard as he brought his attention back to the task(s) at hand.

He was currently focusing on two things: 1) getting the rest of the shampoo out of your hair, and 2) not fucking you up against the shower wall. Doing the first thing was currently keeping him from acting on the second, but you certainly weren’t helping with that.

Your head lolled around on your neck, your eyes still closed as your sounds got louder. He knew you were messing with him now, so as retaliation he pulled on your hair a little tighter, making you gasp.

“You’re doing this on purpose, angel,” you could hear the dark tone of his voice over the waterfall in the shower clearly, and it just made you more aroused. You chanced opening your eyes to look at him, and the sight you were met with made you moan louder, this time without trying.

Jungkook was staring at you, mouth slightly parted as he let out pants of his own, his blonde, soaked tresses falling in his face and covering his eyes. His tongue darted out to lick his lips as he tugged on your hair again, making you reach out to place your hands on his chest.

“You’re teasing me to get me worked up, hm?” All you could do was nod, his husky voice and the feeling of his hand wrapped in your hair making you wetter by the second. There was no use in playing coy any longer. You wanted him, and he wanted you.

The question now was: who would make the first move?

You realized that you wanted to be the one to make the first move, so you did.

“So, what if I am,” you asked sweetly, wrapping your hand around his length and pumping him slowly. His eyes closed and he leaned his forehead against your shoulder, fingers now digging into your waist.

“You know what happens when you do that,” Jungkook warned. You absolutely knew what happened, and you definitely wanted it to happen.

“Hmm, I don’t know, maybe you should enlighten me.” You teased him as you gently nibbled on his earlobe, increasing your pace as you continued to stroke him. You heard him let out a soft moan against your shoulder as he placed a kiss there.

With no more hesitation, you turned him slightly and sank down to your knees in front of him, delighted by how his cock jerked in your hold when you steadied it with your hand.

Jungkook stared at you wide-eyed as you started moving your hand around his shaft before placing a gentle kiss on his tip, the prettiest groan falling from his lips. “Fuck, Y/N, are you sure you want to do this?”

You peeked up at him as you fluttered your eyelashes, knowing that seeing you like this always aroused him beyond belief. You continued moving your hand in slow, languid strokes, and he was almost fully hard now.

He let his head hit the wall behind him, soft curses and praises for you tumbling from his mouth. 

Seeing him like this had to be near the top of the list of your favorite sights to ever witness. And right then is when you figured it’d be the perfect time to surprise him. Without a warning you opened your mouth and took all of him in that you could reach.

Jungkook’s reaction was immediate.

“Hey wait what are y- oh my God, fuck.” His loud moan echoed off the walls of the room, causing a fresh wave of arousal to pool between your thighs. You sucked harder as you hollowed out your cheeks, ignoring the way your throat constricted around him.

“Y/N, shit, you feel so good, your mouth- fuck, angel, I don’t want to hurt you,” Jungkook was panting hard above you, eyes shut and brows furrowed, jaw slack as he unabashedly continued to moan at your actions. He was reaching behind him to try and hold something, but the smooth wall had nothing to offer him. His fingers were slipping against the tile, so he gave up and instead settled for clenching and unclenching his fists.

You pulled off him with a pop, a string of saliva left in your wake. You smiled up at him as you kept stroking him, not wanting his pleasure to disappear in the slightest.

“You won’t hurt me, Koo,” you reassured him, earning another groan from the man falling apart under your touch. He twitched in your hold, and you stuck your tongue out again to run it along the underside of his length. 

Jungkook chanced looking down at you, only to look up at the ceiling a moment later while he muttered a strained “holy shit.” 

“C’mon baby, don’t you want to look at me,” you taunted him as your tongue played with the head of his cock, swirling around him. The low groans coming from above you let you know that he enjoyed that a lot.

“Fuck, angel, I-” Jungkook’s sentence died as a moan ripped itself from his throat when you surged back down to take all of him in again. This time you continued moving, feeling the tears in the corners of your eyes but not stopping.

It wasn’t like you’d never sucked him off like this before, seeing as it was one of your favorite activities, after all. But it was a rare occasion where Jungkook would let you take all of him in one go for fear of hurting you. So, you took these chances whenever they presented themselves, and the reward was always, always worth it.

Tears along with the water droplets from the shower were coating your face but you didn’t care. All of your focus was on Jungkook and how he was trying so hard to restrain himself above you. You watched his fists clench and unclench and you could feel himself struggle to keep his hips from moving forward so he didn’t fuck your mouth.

Yeah, you weren’t having that. You wanted him to let go, wanted him to know that it was ok, that you wanted this. You reached out to grab one of his hands and placed it in your hair, relishing in the way his fingers immediately tangled themselves into the wet strands. You pulled your mouth off of him again, but not before letting your tongue drag slowly across every inch of him.

You looked up at him again as you pumped him leisurely, waiting until he brought his gaze down to stare at you, only for him to quickly close his eyes again.

“God, I can’t look at you, like I want to, fuck do I want to, but you look so fucking good like this, I’m not gonna last-”

You always found his stammering to be cute and you didn’t want to torture him too much longer. Deciding that you’d teased him enough, you took all of him into your mouth again, intertwining your fingers with his unoccupied hand and giving it a squeeze. The intimacy of this particular action was always enough to get both of you going, and it had Jungkook’s hips stuttering as you sucked hard.

“Fuck, baby, always take me so good like this. Always so good for me, I love you, fuck,” he was groaning as his head hit the wall behind him again, his hold in your hair tightening the same moment you felt him buck his hips like you’d been wanting all this time.

Unfortunately, for you, whenever Jungkook would fuck your mouth, no matter how much you wanted to sit there and take it without issue, his size always proved to be too big for you to handle and it had you coughing around his length in no time. Which, of course, always made Jungkook stop what he was doing before either of you had the chance to enjoy it much.

“Fuck, baby, I’m so sorry, are you ok?” Jungkook pulled you up while you kept coughing, brushing the wet strands of hair out of your face and looking at you with worry. You nodded and tried to reassure him, wanting to get back on your knees for him, but he held you in place.

“You don’t want me to continue,” you asked, your voice a little more hoarse than usual thanks to what your throat had just endured.

Jungkook shook his head. “No, angel, it’s not that. If you do keep going, I’ll cum in no time.” He brushed some of the water away from under your eyes, not knowing if it was tears or from the shower. He bent down to place a rough kiss on your lips, such a contrast from how his hands caressed your face.

“I want to be inside of you when that happens,” he murmured against you, gently biting down on your bottom lip and pulling a whine from you, in turn causing more wetness to gush between your legs. “If you’ll let me, of course.”

You almost laughed. “Koo, you know I’ll let you do anything at this point.”

He chuckled. “That’s a dangerous admission, baby. You sure about that?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “Of course I’m sure. I’d let you do anything you want because I trust you. Because I love you,” it was your turn to kiss him this time, and it was filled with so much passion it nearly made him dizzy. Jungkook could never get tired of the feeling of your lips against his, of hearing you say that you loved him, of feeling your skin pressed against each other during times like these.

Jungkook was hooked on you and he never wanted to go back to a time where he wasn’t.

You pulled him out of his thoughts as you tugged on some of his hair, earning a delicious sounding grunt from him. You whispered your next snarky comment right by his ear.

“You gonna fuck me now, baby?”

Your bluntness had his cock quickly stirring back to life after it had softened some during your coughing incident. He growled low and dark as he started placing love bites on your collarbone.

“Sure you don’t want me to return the favor first, angel?” He was marking up your skin while he asked this, so you almost didn’t realize what he was asking specifically but then it dawned on you.

“As much I love seeing you with your head between my legs,” you responded, tugging on his hair again, “I’d rather have you fuck me up against this wall.”

He moaned against your collarbone, the action vibrating your skin. He pulled off of you and brought your lips to his in a filthy kiss. “Your wish is my command.”

Jungkook lifted you up then by placing his hands under your ass and you got the message, wrapping your legs around him as he held you up. He turned so your back was against the wall, the only things now holding you up being his strong arms and the smooth tile behind you.

He first plunged two fingers inside you without a warning, making you let out a silent scream. He smirked at the way you clenched around his fingers, scissoring them before pulling them out again. You whined at the loss and he shushed you with a gentle kiss on your nose.

“Had to make sure you’re ready, baby.” He had one arm wrapped around your waist, trapped in between your back and the shower wall. With his now free hand, he lined himself up with your entrance, moaning when the tip of his cock was sucked in by your velvety walls.

“Fuck, you already feel so good and I’m barely in yet,” he clenched his jaw as he sank further into you inch by inch. When he finally bottomed out and was filling you up in the best way possible, you clenched around him to tease him further, making him curse.

“Watch it, angel,” he growled. “You’re gonna make it very hard for me to not blow it if you keep doing that, and I want you there with me when I do.”

“Then I guess you’d better start moving,” you teased, wrapping your arms more tightly around his neck. You knew what was coming next; Jungkook would put you exactly in your place, just like you wanted. And for that you needed to hold on tight for dear life because that man could rock you like nothing ever had before.

Jungkook grabbed your hips firmly in his hold as he fucked up into you, making sure you were held against the wall and weren’t in danger of falling down as he did so. Despite this, each thrust had you sliding more up the wall until he would bring you back down again. When he found a pace that was he was sure he could resume without either of you getting hurt, he finally let go.

To say you saw stars would be an understatement. Jungkook was fucking you with so much vigor that you weren’t just seeing stars, you were sure you were seeing entire galaxies. Your sounds kept dying out on your tongue because the feeling was so overwhelming and it had your trembling around him in no time.

“Can’t make any sounds when I’m fucking you this good, angel?” Jungkook was taunting you now and quite frankly, he was right, he was fucking you so good that you were finding it hard to say anything. And the mixture of his dirty words with the sweet pet name you adored had you clenching even tighter around him, causing him to groan loudly and grip your waist tighter.

You eventually found your voice again when Jungkook hit a certain spot inside of you, pulling an embarrassingly loud whine from your throat. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, tears almost brimming in your eyes once again at how good he felt.

“Fuck, Jungkook, feels so good, oh my God-” your praises made him twitch inside you as he moved his hands now from your waist to hold you up by cupping your ass, squeezing tightly in time with his thrusts. He was bouncing you up and down on his cock now with his strength alone, and the thought of it made your orgasm start to approach at an alarmingly fast rate.

“I love feeling you so close like this, I love you, so fucking much, shit-” Jungkook cut himself off as threw his head back to get his hair out of his face, careful not to let his balance falter or his grip slip on you. He had to do it though because his hair was keeping him from seeing your face now that you were leaning your head back against the wall, and he couldn’t have that.

“I love you, Jungkook, I’m close, fuck,” you were breathing hard as you couldn’t control your moans any longer, eyes squeezed shut and tears falling from just how much pleasure you were receiving and also how much you loved this man. Jungkook was the man you’d loved for so many years before you were finally able to call him yours. He always took care of you in every aspect of life, and you reciprocated it as best you could. And it was because of this kind of love you two had for each other that made these intimate times all the more meaningful. You were sitting here, back up against a shower wall in the arms of the man you loved while he rearranged your guts, and it was such an emotional experience alongside being a pleasurable one that the tears actually made sense.

Jungkook bit down on your shoulder and pulled you out of your reverie, making you cry out as he muffled his own sounds against your skin. You could tell by his thrusts that he was getting close now, his grunts happening more frequently and louder, echoing off the tiled shower walls. The water had already started to get cold but neither of you cared. Nothing outside of the two of you existed in this moment, and that was exactly how you liked it.

“Touch yourself for me, baby, I’m close, want you to be there with me,” Jungkook breathed out, his grip on your ass harsher now and you were sure there’d be marks tomorrow. You loved it when he marked you up, and even though he always felt slightly bad about it, you knew Jungkook loved seeing the marks, too.

You obeyed his command and reached down to rub your clit, nearly shrieking at the new wave of pleasure that washed over you. The sensations on your clit, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside of you, the way he was holding you, and all the things he was saying to you was enough to finally push you over the edge.

“Jungkook, I’m cumming, fuck-” you barely had time to utter out your warning before you were cumming hard around his length, your body spasming as he held you through it.

He sped up then, chasing his own high now, the feeling of your walls clenching around him making his eyes roll back. “Fuck, I can feel you, always so perfect for me, I’m close-”

His eyes were closed now so he didn’t see you reach for him. You pulled him closer so you could kiss him, hoping to help him along this way, swallowing down every beautiful sound he was making. “C’mon Koo, cum for me, wanna feel you fill me up.”

“Fuuuuck,” he moaned out, loud and long as that was the last thing he needed to get him there. His hips stuttered a few more times before you felt him twitch and fill you up, just like you wanted. Because gravity was working against you due to your current position, you could feel some of it dripping out of you despite Jungkook still being inside of you. The feeling made you scrunch up your nose, and the action made Jungkook laugh and mumble out ‘cute’ as he placed a kiss on the tip of your nose.

He pulled out of you carefully before moving you away from the wall so he could set you down on your feet. Your legs were a little wobbly, so he let you brace yourself against him as he helped you clean up.

The water was nearing a very uncomfortable cold temperature, but the both of you would rather endure that than leave the shower without cleaning off completely. After the workout you both had, there was nothing more you wanted than to curl up with each other in the bed.

After helping each other get clean again, and stealing quite a few kisses while doing so, Jungkook helped you out of the shower since you still didn’t trust your legs and dried you off before taking care of himself. Your heart swelled at the sight of him as it always did when he would take care of you like this.

You just hoped that you were taking care of him in all the ways he needed as well. You were certainly trying your best and would continue to do so for the rest of your life.

Once you were both snuggled into bed, him with an arm under you and you with your face nuzzling against his chest, you broke the silence first.

“If that’s what happens when I let you put paint on me, we should do that more often.”

Jungkook, who was tracing invisible patterns on your back in between your shoulder blades, laughed so hard you shook along with him. When he finally calmed down, he was able to answer you. “I totally agree. Although, I don’t think that happened because I painted you. It happened because you-” he booped you on the nose “-teased me, knowing full well what happens when you do.”

You shrugged as best you could with his arms around you. “You love it, though.”

Jungkook chuckled. “Indeed I do.” He placed a kiss on the top of your head and resumed his earlier soothing tracing of patterns on your skin. You rested your cheek against his chest and could hear his heartbeat, slow and steady. The combined actions of his hands and the steady thrum of his heartbeat was enough to have slumber calling your name in a matter of minutes.

Jungkook had something more to say, however.

“Hey,” he called gently, making you look up at him with groggy eyes. He smiled at the sight. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For helping me. For being my muse. I’ve got more ideas now about what else to create, and I don’t think I could’ve gotten there without your help.”

You smiled at him before you placed your head down again and shut your eyes once more, breathing deeply. “You would’ve eventually. That’s just how you are. Maybe I sped up the process, but you would’ve done fine.”

“Perhaps,” he sighed and looked at the ceiling. His glance travelled down to look at your nearly sleeping form, laying on him calm and unbothered. Moments like these topped his list of favorite things, and he wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world.

“Goodnight, angel,” he murmured softly, not sure if you were asleep or not yet. You muttered something unintelligible back, but he knew you were telling him goodnight all the same, and it brought a smile to his face.

Jungkook wanted to tackle life with you, the good, the bad, all of it; he wanted to do it with you by his side. He wanted to make sure every day of your life from here on out was filled with happiness and love and everything you deserved in the world, just as you wanted to do the same for him. He knew you’d do anything for him, and he’d do anything for you.

Only for you.

[solomonish]

Dork Solomon Agenda

You say sexy shady sorcerer I say nerd and love of my life

Solomon is a sad lonely little man why just wants a genuine connection us that so much to ask???

No but seriously like. It's totally fine if you hc Solomon as this man-turned-lowkey-sex-god with a million succubi and more at his whim whenever he wants and would be a tough one to put the ol' ball and chain on like to each their own for sure! But that's not MY hc

(Thats not to say my hc means he doesn't ever engage in casual sex like that and wanting a genuine long term relationship at some point [or finding out thats what you want when you meet someone] are not mutually exclusive yknow)

So like Solomon isn't the type to be short with you or keep you at an arm's length (i mean...u get what I mean. Once you're close enough and all that jazz) or get annoyed by you wanting to be affectionate?? Hello??

He LOVES the little things you do (some on accident tbh). You feeling affectionate today and give him a kiss or three on his face before you leave to go to your separate classes? Adorable, he's fallen in love again. You do that thing where you like.. forget how to walk straight and just accidentally bump into him? No come back he likes being close to you :( He doesn't SAY these things but there's a light, airy laugh he has that gives him away.

If you're ever facetiming he will say "boo!" when you connect instead of just. Greeting you like a normal person.

His fuckin. His devilgram name is monSOLO. My mans is a star wars fan!!! I dont know any of The Discourse bc I'm not super into star wars myself but he has IN DEPTH opinions about the movies. Seriously rivals Levi in this aspect. Please make time for movie nights where you watch the movies together 🥺 especially if you haven't seen them before he'd love to convert you 🥺

Didn't Solomon also have a thing for TSL??? Or am I just imagining it??

I feel like his ideal date would be exploring something new, whether its this new spooky forest or "hey have we been down this alley before? Let's check it out!" but ideal date number TWO is movie night. Even if it isn't Star Wars. He likes to sit on opposite ends of the couch throwing popcorn into each other's mouths (and big candies like peanut m&ms where you both have almost choked before) and maybe a footsie war if he's feeling real devious. Then at some point you grab a blanket and snuggle up to him and you both fall asleep on the couch

Simeon yells at him when you leave because there's popcorn EVERYWHERE

LOVES when you laugh super loud. Idk man he just thinks its great when you have such unbridled joy and then he laughs too 😊 not as loud though he's more of a quiet chuckle kind of guy (most of the time).

Is friends with Asmo so is extremely great at slumber party gossip. Catch him in his pajamas, cross-legged on the floor while clutching a pillow to his chest and listening intently to you rant about the brothers.

"Come here I have a secret to tell you" (blows air in your ear) "okay okay I'm sorry but come here again" (blows air on your neck) "okay okay last time! I actually have something to tell you. Please? Its important...." (kisses ur cheek) "like u a lil bit xo"

Never the type to send "good morning beautiful" or "good night 💞" texts. Instead he'll send you something at 4 am like "the infinite cosmos will eventually swallow whole all familiarity and life as it is now presently known and despite the adaptations humans or demons or angels could make i will still have to adapt and face the world as an alien in the realm I love so dearly. Funny how the strongest of beings bow to the whim of space and time. But sometimes my eternal journey doesn't seem so daunting when I realize that with my everlasting life will be the memory of you no matter how distant and the survival of the vessel you loved...."

And then at lunch that day when the brothers pull you away he'll send you a picture of the lasagna they're serving with "this kinda looks like you? Don't worry I'd still hit it" and then two minutes later "you not the pasta"

Is the type to think randomly "oh damn I love you so much" but has an impressive filter about it. Or he thinks he does until Luke grumbles "ugh get a room thats the fifth time you've seen that since monday" ok, sometimes he has a good filter about it

He can't help it! Sometimes you just say something really smart (or something SPECTACULARLY dumb) or you do something cute like lean on him or smile a specific way or-

Sir.....you're head over heels sir :/

The type who would go to a playground at night with you and just swing on the swings talking about life

Wants to have a secret handshake with you!!

If you're ever on a road trip with just the two of you, you can get him to join in on the terrible singing but he'll be a lot quieter than you

Also will only join in if he isn't driving. If he is and you aren't talking, he's just humming underneath his breath. Will drum on the steering wheel though

Cooking

(Yes, it gets its own section because MAYBE I'm obsessed with the idea of MC teaching Solomon to cook and the food still turning out terrible but at least it isn't a void when MC is helping)

The type to flick water at you every time he washes his hands. Will chase you down just to do it.

"Hey, tilt your head back and open your mouth MC" (proceeds to dump too big a handful of shredded cheese in your mouth)

100% the type to lean over you just to hinder your cooking abilities. Who cares if the sauce splashes he's tiiiired.... you'd let belphie do it :(

Puts a hand on your lower back when he passes behind you. Hopes you'll lean into it/step back and offer him a kiss 🥺

Believes in always having a proper table setting. Prepare for whatever juice they have (or water) in wine glasses if you're having a nice-er meal

Under the assumption that a spell ruined his sense of taste (and not that he's just bad at cooking) he hates spicy food. He can feel the burn but he gets none of the flavor??? Wack. Don't hurt him like that MC. If you do because its hilarious to watch him try to be cool about it he will pout

Gets cheesy aprons. He just likes them.

Will hit you on the top of your head with a whisk to hear the noise it makes

Will buy every kitchen hack tool there is. A ketchup dispenser that looks like a gun? He's got it. A fish that helps you squeeze out the egg yolks? Yes! A dinosaur soup ladle? You bet! Pizza scissors? A tool that makes hard boiled eggs into cubes? Something that's gotta be like 200 years old and no discernable purpose? Absolutely! He wants a hot dog toaster. Do they even have hot dogs in the devildom?

Will sneak bites just because it bothers you

Overall

Look at him. He hasn't had friends in centuries. He's playful!

Look at his DEVILGRAM NAME

His funky little WAND

This is a man who is a huge nerd, thrives off of cliches and just wants to have a good time. So let him! Its mentally exhausting having those pretenses up all the time.

[weebwrites]

What It Takes (Meizou x Reader) (Ximen x Reader)

Fandom: Meteor Garden / Boys Over Flowers Warnings: Unrequited love, Love Triangle, Happy Ending, Sad Ending Words: 2k217 Requested By: No One Synopsis: Meizou can’t help but wonder what it will take for his fiancé to love him instead.

Note to Self- Don’t fall In Love First

Mei Zou had been ecstatic when he first heard of the arranged business merger between his family and the Y/L/N group. Since the moment his mother brought the idea to him, he was shaking with excitement. He had always been worries of his parents plan for his future- maybe that’s why he tried to have as much fun as possible in his youth.

Mei Zou told no one about the engagement plans, but, of course, Y/n noticed. She called him out the first time she saw him since he was told the news. It never stopped shocking him; she was the most observant person Mei Zou had ever met. 

The group of five were lounging in the bridge room, and the second Y/n looked up from her music composition book she asked Meizou what made him so excited. He was quick to re-gain his composure and call it a secret- saying she’ll find out soon enough. 

The other three people in the club room looked over at the both of them. Ah Si rolled his eyes, making some remark of how freaky it was- that she knew them so well. 

Ximen walked over to her and put his hand gingerly on Y/n’s head, “I think it’s cute how her gaming strategy bleeds into her personality.” He moved his hand to her jaw so they were looking at each other, sharing a smile. 

Lei nodded, “It’s nice to have someone you can have a silent conversation with.”

Meizou kept his eyes on the pair in front of him, his hands balling at his sides, morphing into pale chords of muscles as he clenched the chair’s fabric. Y/n had looked back at her book, making progress on the song she was composing. 

He watched as her hair fell from behind her ears, obscuring his view of the girl. He noticed the signs of her becoming increasing frustrated. Just as he was about to move over, Y/n had called out to Lei. 

“I’m trying to convert my song from guitar to piano, but I’m not sure how to compensate for the fret change during the bridge. What chord do you think will work here?” She made eye-contact with the soft boy.

Before looking at where she was referring to, Hua Ze Lei gently brushed the hair from her face before answering her question. 

If only we were together already, Mei Zou thought, then I could stop them from looking at her like that. It was hard on the boy to see Y/n interact with other guys on a daily basis. He’s loved her since they were children, but he had no clue what the future held. So, for now, he bit his tongue. It would be so much easier if she loved me already. 

------------------------------

Note To Self- Don’t wait too long

He was many things- an artist, a bridge player, a loyal friend, a play boy, a hopeless romantic, the list goes on- but Mei Zou is not an idiot. 

He recognized the signs- falling in love was most visible from the outside. It started small, he would walk beside her in the halls. Then he would be the first to her classes, then he started to drive her home, until he’d take her out before reaching her house. It had started small, the love between an angel and a broken man. 

Meizou wasn’t an idiot. He knew Ximen was cautious with love, to the point of thinking he might never get married. It was a shock when he realized his friend was actually in love.

When Meizou first noticed his friend’s lingering glances and moment longer hands on her waist, he cornered him in the hallway. He had pushed Ximen against the lockers, grabbing his collar. Meizou scolded him, warned him that Y/n wasn’t like the girls he toys with, she’s more than them. He warned him about messing with their Y/n, the only female member of F5; Meizou gently reminded him that it wasn’t just himself Ximen would have to worry about, Ah Si and Lei cherished their princess, and they’d do anything to protect her.

Ximen shoved his friend off of him, aggressively declaring his love for her. “I love her, Meizou,” he whispered after. “I can’t stop- it’s like she’s the only thing in my life- every girl I see is just a person who isn’t her, every breath I take is one I wish was with her; she’s in every thought I have and my hand feels empty without hers’ in it. I don’t know how but I love her. I love her.”

To say he was shocked would be an understatement. Meizou guided Ximen back to their club room to keep away from peering eyes. They sat and drank the scotch the room was stocked with. Even as Ah Si came and went, Ximen hadn’t said a word since the hallway. Nothing fell from his lips since he whispered his love for their bestfriend. Meizou had never seen Ximen so vulnerable before, so delicate; if he told his friend about the engagement plans Meizou feared he would shatter like a porcelain heart, so he waited.

--------------------------------

Note To Self- Decide Your Priorities Early On

Having the plans be a secret wasn’t difficult. Meizou wasn’t told anything since the reveal, so it’s not like he was keeping anything other than that from hs friends. No, having it be a secret wasn’t what was difficult- but keeping it a secret was the most painful experience ever. 

Meizou watched their love story from the side lines- seeing the stages of their relationship was like watching acts of a play in a theater he couldn’t leave. He was the understudy of a lead who never got sick. Still, Meizou waited. He waited for Ximen to mess up, to freak out. It was messed up- something he never thought he would stoop low enough to do- yet every time Y/n gushed about her plans Meizou silently prayed his friend wouldn’t show up.

He prayed Ximen would forget, he prayed Ximen would make a mistake- just once. He wished he would say the wrong thing- offend her by accident; he prayed on every lucky star that Ximen would hurt her- just once.

Yet with every ill-intended wish it was like their love grew stronger. Ximen had given up his go-to dating plans the moment Y/n agreed to go out with him. Long gone were the roses and strawberry scented cards, no more was the heart on the side of the building. Y/n wasn’t like that. 

Instead they would go to a second hand book store and find a book that had been lived in- one with dog-eared pages and cracked spines. With their books in hand they would to go a cafe, they’d order two drinks (A hot tea of differing flavors and a Spiced Chai Latte) and a piece of cake. Occasionally looking up to smile at their partners, they lived through the books. Smudged highlights of their favorite quotes, smushed rants in the margins when the plot got heated, tears softening the pages which hurt their hearts; the two poured their souls into the pages, and then they gave part of themselves to the other. 

They’d go their separate ways and read the books their partners had chosen for them, laughing when they read a funny note the other had left, calling in tears when everything goes wrong, they annotated the novels. The books would be swapped back and forth, each time read from a new perspective until each page was filled with reminders of love, silly rants, or just mementos of their time together. The book became more ink and highlighter than paper, and it’s meaning had transformed. This was what they were as a couple, something that never seemed to be breakable. Something endless.

Ah Si was spectacle at first, hesitant to expose Y/n to his playboy turned romantic friend. He had always thought Y/n would end up with Lei- but he gave Ximen a chance, and he waited. He waited for Y/n to show up at his door step in tears, he waited to kill Ximen for making her cry. He waited and he waited and the day never came. 

Instead, Y/n cried over how sweet he was. Instead she told him how well he treated her, how Ximen made her feel so special. She called Ah Si late at night not heartbroken, but reduced to giggles and squeals after a perfect date. Never came the day Ah Si would comfort a heartbroken Y/n, and he had never been happier for her. 

Lei was the first to know of Y/n’s long-lasting crush on his friend. He was surprised- back when she told him at the age of twelve. But since then he expected the calls of how he was perfect, how he’d never see her as a girl. He knew Y/n’s feelings inside out, and he was worried when she told him that Ximen had taken her out on a date. He waited for Ximen to get bored, for Y/n’s perfection to not be enough for him. Lei watched silently as the pair spent every second together, watched with careful eyes as they fell hard. 

After his worries for her well being subsided, Lei waited for Y/n to fade from his life. As it was, Y/n called him every day and texted him throughout it. He waited for the calls to stop, for her texts to become once a day with simple meanings. He waited patiently to be along on the rooftop with only the memories of his bestfriend to keep him company. He waited and waited and waited, staring at the phone or the rooftop entrance. Days, weeks, a month, two, yet the phone always rang, and the door always opened. Lei realized Y/n wouldn’t be abandoning his relationship with her for someone else. Maybe it was because he chose love and abandoned his friends when he did- maybe that's why he tried to prepare himself for Y/n’s departure from his life- waiting for her to disappear. But the day never came, and Lei stopped waiting.

Ximen was terrified every day. He was anxious as he drove to her house, wondering when he would freak out. He was scared when he looked down and saw Y/n holding onto his arm, wondering when he would push her off. He clenched his hand tight as he watched her dance through the streets of Shanghi, wondering when he would ruin his one shot at happiness. 

Every date his heart was beating out of his chest, every stolen glance felt like the last. Every smile thrown his way was a wakeup call- every time her voice reached his ears it cut through the fog of self doubt and misery which swallowed him whole- she was his savior. His angel that managed to save him every time, the only life raft on the sinking boat; she was the only good thing left in the world that fought to bruise his ego and tie him to a hundred pound weight of misery. She was the softest blanket, she was the best alarm. She was everything. His hand unclenched. He calmed down.

Meizou should have known this would happen. He decided then, seeing her beautiful smile, that her happiness is all that mattered. 

---------------------------------------------------------

Note To Self- Sometimes Things Don’t Work Out, Sometimes That’s Okay

When Meizhou told his parents he wouldn’t go through with the wedding they were furious. When he broke down in tears they had no clue what to do with themselves. 

“She’s in love with someone else,”

They comforted him as best as absentee parents could, patting his head awkwardly with empty words. They offered to go through with it anyway, have her fall in love with him after they’re married.

Meizhou refused- he didn’t want to. 

Instead, Meizhou stood at the altar, watching as Y/n approached. She was beautiful. Her dress dragged behind her and her eyes watered with tears- she was gorgeous. 

Lei and Daoming Si stood across the isle, beside Y/n as she took her rightful spot. She stared into the eyes of her beloved and, for once, it wasn’t jealousy that prickled under his skin. It was sorrow- deep and painful morning for the death of his future. His beloved would never be his, his beloved was someone else. He cried.

Y/n had never felt better. Her mother had been apprehensive about giving her consent, saying she hadn’t expected Ximen to be the one she fell in love with. Y/n wasn’t sure what she meant, but her mom dressed her to the nines and did her makeup personally. 

And now here she was, standing in front of the man she’d gladly spend every moment of her life with.

“How did I get so lucky,” she whispered, as Lei handed her Ximens ring and Meizhou handed him the other.

“No love-” Ximens eyes swirled with love and adoration, “how did I get so lucky?”

The room erupted into cheers, applause, the occasional scream or encouragement as they kissed. The world faded around them and the only thing that mattered was each other.

Meizhou waved them off as they climbed into the limo towards their honeymoon. 

[pallasperilous]

Boneless Wings

 {AO3 version}

So, blah blah blah, it’s their standard-issue disaster: pack of dumbass witches (always with the dumbass witches. Where do they find the time for this shit? Somebody get these women signed up for a Peloton subscription or a macramé class or a vibrator of the month club, seriously, whatever it takes—), ancient curse, Castiel being the actual angel of stepping in it, nobody cares. 

The point is, two hundred and forty-one hours of binge-worthy drama later, Dean and Cas are living in a semi-detached just a short thirty-minute commute to somewhere equally lame, Castiel has two literal-ass wings, and yes, Susan, they kiss now. 

The neighbors are weirdly cool with it. 

For those of you perving along at home, Dean could absolutely provide a list of the hundred or so ways that having a boyfriend* with giant fucking actual wings is super hot and/or awesome.

This is not that list.

(*you can just shut right the fuck up , Sam, because it’s either this or Dean will start saying lover. And nobody needs that. Nobody wants that.)

1.  Bird mites. Holy shit. 

 2.  Sharing a bathroom. The shower curtain rod, and consequently the security deposit, are early casualties. The medicine cabinet follows swiftly behind. Shower hijinks are not even an option.

 3.  Dean comes home one day from a gig and there is a giant plastic green turtle in the backyard. A closer inspection reveals that the turtle is actually a mule for about half a truck bed of industrial dust ‘n grit. It is, in fact, a kiddie sandbox. Dean points out that they do not, in fact, have a small child (FINGERS CROSSED), so...?

Cas then earnestly shows him an entire playlist of exotic birdy dust bath videos on Youtube. 

Dean then earnestly shows him the garden hose. 

4.  The down just gets, like...everywhere. EVERYWHERE. How many times have Sam and Dean practically sold their kidneys for a single angel feather for some dumb spell to solve some pointless Occult McProblem? And now Dean is picking them out of his damn teeth every morning. (No, gross, not because of... Jesus, no, that is not a thing.)

On the upside of this one, Dean finally has an excuse to buy a Dyson, which he’s secretly always thought looked awesome. It is. 

 5.  When Dean is scraping out the umpteenth canister of fluff he jokingly suggests they use some of it to supplement the tragically flaccid down comforter currently shaming their bed, and Castiel pitches an existential fucking sulk. Dean wants to experience happiness again, so he does not point out that it get ass-bitingly cold here this time of year, and decent bedding is not exactly inexpensive, and the Dyson kind of maxed them out on household purchases.

But whatever.

 6.  Castiel is indulging in what Dean thinks of as a sky pout when he flies right into a head-on with li’l Timmy NextDoor’s new Christmas surveillance drone. It dings the shit out of one of Cas’s left primary feathers (the scientific term is “those big motherfuckers”), which apparently hurts like a bitch. Cas is grounded for a few weeks after that and is cutely pathetic about it and at first Dean is absolutely down to kiss it better. By the end, Dean is almost ready to strangle Cas with his own necktie, but he has learned a lot of surprisingly interesting stuff about ancient Mesopotamia, like that it was super horny.

 7.  After the snow melts, Dean starts finding shit on the front step with the morning paper. It’s not even a good newspaper; Cas signed them up for the local fish-wrapper (or maybe it was Sam, before he fled for the hills— he occasionally breaks out in a  “support local journalism” rash). The crossword puzzle is insulting, but the paper does at least syndicate Carolyn Hax, whom Dean secretly suspects of being an absolute wildcat in the sack, so he grudgingly expends the calories to bring it in every morning. 

Anyway, at first the stuff he discovers crapping up the welcome mat is just shiny bits of trash — couple granola wrappers, some MGD pull-tabs, a few field-stripped twisty-ties. Probably just windblown, and he tosses it in the garbage can. 

Then a couple weeks in, things start getting...grisly? It escalates real slowly, from a variety platter of mouse bits to squirrel à la power line and then half of a dry-aged raccoon and an opossum that has recently graduated from playing dead to professional dead-being. The neighborhood crows obviously love that their front step is now a roadkill café; Dean has to bat increasing numbers of them away with the kitchen broom in order to relocate their horrible snack to the edge of the nearest storm drain.

Then one morning there are like twenty crows and they’re in just the cutest little football huddle-up around what turns out to be a human fucking finger with a retro-fun mood ring still on the knuckle (it’s feeling: Sad) and Dean fully loses his shit. 

Cas hears him freaking out and comes whomping out of the garage ready to, whatever, flap somebody to death maybe, but as soon as he establishes that Dean doesn’t need anything more than a fresh pair of boxers, he de-poofs a bit and assesses the whole human finger/crows situation in his usual infuriatingly unrushed way. The crows had mostly bounced up to the cable line over the house, safely out of brooming range, but one by one they start to drop down and hippity-hop back towards the world’s tiniest crime scene.

If Dean were five percent less freaked he’d be tempted to go inside and find out how much of a dent he can make in a six-pack before Castiel finally dings and spits out his results, but he isn’t, so he just stands there in silence clutching the broom like it’s a shotgun.

Eventually Cas says “hm,” and then he looks at the crows and makes some noises that sound like a spoon caught in a garbage disposal, and the crows make some scrawps and chuks back, and then one of them delicately noodges the tip of dead finger with its beak and then hippity hops back a foot or two, bows, and then they all fly away over the shitty little beige duplex across the street like they’re running ten minutes late to an important bird appointment.

Castiel stands up (Dean reflexively backs up into the doorway, as this involves Cas bomfing out his wings a bit for ballast and Dean has caught a blow to the nuts on more than one occasion), dusts off his goddamn slacks, pulls a plastic evidence baggie out of thin goddamn air or maybe his socks, and casually bags the finger like they’re doing a standard FBI wheeze. “So what,” Dean says, as Cas diligently zips the baggie, “the fuck?”

“Oh,” Cas says, blinking in surprise that Dean is still there and interested, “they think I’m their god.”

Dean kind of stares back at him, the six feet of dude and like sixteen feet of bird, and thinks sure, okay, but his face must still be stuck on “Tippi Hedren attic scene” because Cas puts a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder and adds “Don’t worry. I’ve told them I don’t require further offerings, and I reassured them that you’re my consort and were simply jealous of other potential mates.”

It takes Dean two weeks to come up with a response to that, but by then it’s become evident that no bird is ever going to shit on the Impala again, so he decides to just chalk it up in the win column and move on.

You know. The family business.

8.  No matter how tightly he folds them, Cas can’t fit his wings through the definitely-not-up-to-code doorway of the wood-paneled family rec room in the basement, so Dean claims it as his man cave and dubs it the “No Fly Zone.” 

Castiel doesn’t find this funny, but Dean really only uses it to fold laundry. 

 9.  Transpo is an obvious issue. Cas can almost stuff himself into the Impala if he sort of reverse-cowgirls the back seat, but then the wingtips smoosh up against the windshield and Dean’s visibility is approximately zip. And, sure, Cas could fly himself anywhere they really needed to go, he’s basically a Chevy Of The Air, but sometimes it’s raining, and the seraph Castiel — Shield of God, Heavenly Soldier of the Lord, multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent, will smell like a wet fucking chicken for days afterward. Febreze does not help.

Dean spends a few nauseating weeks contemplating the purchase of — and here he learns that the human gag reflex can be conditioned, but never truly eradicated — a convertible. Once Cas brings up the possibility of a minivan or perhaps a station wagon (he’s taken to studying family motor vehicles with all the intensity of a birder with a life list) and Dean makes him sleep on the couch.

Dean gets his own living room rotation after he shows Cas a Craigslist posting for a very reasonably priced horse trailer. Castiel points out that it’s used and Dean notes that neither of them is exactly mint in original packaging either. Castiel points out that he’s not a horse, and after a few necessary but admittedly unoriginal jokes, Dean pulls up a website with an exhaustive photographic tutorial on how to convert a horse trailer “for the safe and sanitary transport of ostriches, emus, and/or cassowaries.” Cas points out that he’s not an ostrich, emu, and/or cassowary, and Dean counters that he clearly isn’t, because an emu would probably show a little more gratitude, and that’s how Dean learns that the couch has a broken spring under the left cushion. The transpo issue remains unresolved.

 10.  Dean keeps a pair of shop-grade safety goggles by his side of the bed. It’s not the sexiest look, but it turns out feathers are stabby as hell when encountered at a particular angle. Cas can do the healy thing, of course, but they learn the hard way that cornea perforation is not really a mood enhancer. On the bright side, Castiel accidentally corrects Dean’s incipient presbyopia, which means Dean doesn’t have to hold the newspaper at arm’s length anymore when he’s idly speculating what Carolyn Hax looks like below the neck. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.

 11.  You’d think that, when you’re coming down from a time-limited but incurable curse that makes you feel like every cell of your body has its own cute little individual headcold — because you missed a hex bag due to the fact that you were preparing your legal response to Sam turning up to the hunt wearing a goddamn hair scrunchy, as if he were fresh off the set of a very special episode of Clarissa Explains It All — anyway, you’d think that being wrapped in the warm embrace of an angel’s wings would be nice. 

But you would be wrong, because apparently your boyfriend has been out communing with the bees again, and those feathers pick up ragweed pollen like it’s their goddamn job, and guess what else angels can’t cure? Dean will take Motherfucking Seasonal Allergies for 600, Alex. 

12a.  One of the neighbors has that homesteading hippie brain disease that drives an otherwise normal-seeming person to brew their own beer and raise a bunch of chickens despite living within five hundred yards of a fully functioning Hy-Vee. There’s a week where one of the wee little velociraptors seems to be processing some kind of trauma because it starts yelling at dawn and keeps going until well past the hour that swearing is allowed on network TV. 

When Dean finally hammers on the front door the next afternoon the neighbor apologizes with some extremely nasty home-brew (HIPPIES) and some absolutely devastating weed (HIPPIES!) and explains that “Ginger is going through a rough molt” and then he kind of nods his head towards Dean’s side of the fence where Cas is futzing around in the squash plants and stage whispers (this is a direct quote) “You know how they get.”

Dean is about to rip the dude a new one for comparing his immortal space-kaiju lover to a fucking Australorp yard pullet when Castiel pops his head up over the white pickets and breezily contributes “Bad molt, yes, those are terrible, Dean can tell you all about how insufferable I am those weeks,” and sometimes Dean just doesn’t know why he even tries.

 12b.  The less said about angel molt, the better. 

Seriously, the freakin’ eyes-on-his-hands naked mole rat dude from, whatsit, Pan’s Labyrinth of Subtitles, would run screaming from this shit. 

 13.  There’s a 4th of July BBQ Potluck Block Party and Dean’s inability to stand idly by while good meat is abused ( shut up Sam ) means he winds up manning the grill and dismissing the pretenders to set some strictly inedible things on fire. Cas hangs out next to him and uses his flappers to kinda whupf the smoke away from Dean’s eyes now and then, which rules. It’s actually a pretty chill event until Sharon and Don From Number 4267, The Green House With The White Trim, turn up with a giant Pyrex full of naked, still-marinating teriyaki wings. 

Sharon And Don look down at their wings and then up at Castiel and then down at the wings and then up at Castiel and they are clearly teetering on the edge of a Midwestern politeness failure-based nervous breakdown. But then Cas, smooth as a margarine commercial, gently takes the dish from Sharon’s frozen hands, examines the contents for a silent moment, and says “it’s alright. They weren’t personal friends.”

He gets an extra burger for that one.

 14.  Cas keeps absent-mindedly trying to groom Dean — who, in case it still needs to be said at this point, possesses zero-point-zero feathers of his own — so he goes after Dean’s hair, instead. Dean has to stop him after his second hour of trying to straighten out a cowlick. “I don’t understand how you can steer properly with this deformity,” Cas says, as if it’s a genuine miracle that Dean isn’t constantly careening over ottomans like Dick Van Dyke. He’s even more horrified by Dean’s (frankly minimal) use of hair gel. “Jesus, Cas, it’s not like I’m drinking it,” he says, but then one time they have an epic make-out session shortly after Dean performs his masculine beauty rituals and there’s some smearage of various types of Product (tm) on the flappy areas. 

And, sonuvabitch, for the next six hours Cas is spirographing around the house like he has a heavenly inner ear infection, and he only stops veering into the doorframes after Dean wipes down every. Single. Feather. With mineral oil and about eighteen clean shop cloths. Dean switches to something called hair wax, which costs thirty zillion times more per ounce and makes him smell vaguely like church, but is a lot less gloppy. The things we do for love.

 15.  Seating inside the house is a bit of a conundrum, too. Cas can kind of flop his wings out to the sides if he sits in the middle of the couch, but then Dean’s stuck on the recliner, which is basically in the next county. Bar stools are disastrously tippy, Dean’s lower back and hips have not endured mumble-mumble years of hunting just to be subjected to a damn beanbag chair, and, after a brief flurry of optimistic excitement, Dean determines that they’d have to take the front door off to get a massage chair in. He finds a swing online that if, he can get the hardware properly installed in the crossbeam, is rated for up to 500 pounds, so he texts Cas the URL so he can check out the specs. After half an hour he writes back —

CASTIEL: Dean

CASTIEL: I believe this swing is intended for sexual congress.

DEAN: ...

CASTIEL: I can infer from the ellipsis that you have spent several minutes attempting to draft a response.

DEAN: ...

CASTIEL: Dean

DEAN: it’s multipurpose

  16 . On the plus side, though, big-ass wings make for a pretty good drying rack. He can get every sock in the house laid out on those suckers in a single round and, one episode of Dr. Sexy later, they’re perfectly dry and toasty warm, without any of the pair-busting casualties Dean has learned to expect from the apparently socknivorous dryer in the basement. 

Dean assumes it’s just the product of good air circulation and body heat until he realizes that he hasn’t had to toss a pair for being too worn out in...maybe six months? So he asks Cas “Are your wings... healing the socks” and after an entire Abbott and Costello routine centering around heal versus heel, Dean determines that the answer is: yes, his boyfriend’s wings are channeling the almighty power of Heaven to magically repair the socks Dean buys at Target in twelve-pack bags. On sale.

This is actually kind of sexy, if Dean is being perfectly honest, so, you know what? It doesn’t belong on this list.

 16.  So nobody really freaks out or bursts into tears or calls the news or the FBI or anything when Cas goes out in public with him, which Dean is secretly a little disappointed about, because come on. (Maybe giant wings just reads as a gay thing? Was there an episode of Will and Grace about this that Dean missed back when he was ass deep in wendigos or something?)

But no. Dudes tend to just glance at them across the Home Depot parking lot, throw them the Mutual Dude Acknowledgement Nod, and say some shit like “Comic-con,” or “nice anime” in a knowing tone. Then they go back to rolling their carts full of gaskets or hammers or whatever back to their mom’s station wagon. 

Little girls tend to go googly-eyed — Castiel seems to fall into the same category as a Disney princess, despite the stubble and the drabcore wardrobe, and Dean can’t count the number of times some mom has approached Dean at the grocery store (like he’s Castiel’s manager?? Which, okay...yeah, actually) and asked if they do birthday parties. The money would actually be pretty tempting if Dean weren’t five thousand percent sure that Cas would get them both arrested by launching into an anatomy lesson about duck sex or how God is a loser who favors relaxed fit jeans and Wild Turkey.

The worst is white ladies of a Certain Age, and it always seems to happen in the pudding aisle, for some reason. They either go cross-eyed with horniness and become indiscriminately handsy (Dean can’t blame them for the impulse, but also back off, Karen), or ask Cas for prayers for their cat’s chronic asshole problems (which Castiel WILL take seriously). 

Worst of all is when some hippie spinster clocks them. This woman inevitably reaches right for the feathers and asks in a willowy voice if they’d ever consider turning some of them into dreamcatchers to sell at her studio, which is literally always named The Faerie’s Glen. Then Cas gets confused about why, exactly, a sixty year-old WASP in a peasant skirt would need to call on the infant-protection powers of an Ojibwe spider goddess, while Dean just wants to bite the lady’s fingers off. 

Either way, it’s always a bad scene, and many fully loaded grocery carts have been lost to the fallout.

17.  For some metaphysical reason Dean is too dumb to suss out but also too smart to question, lugging a pair of Cessna-sized flappers around this mortal dimension actually seems to tucker Cas out. He doesn’t need to zonk out every night, but he semi-regularly throws in the towel and actually crawls in with Dean for the duration. 

This would be swell in theory, but the guy absolutely cannot settle the fuck down in less than three (3) human hours, which is the exact amount of sleep Dean requires to maintain his famously sunny demeanor. It’s not just ye olde tossing and turning — Dean can handle that, sharing a bed with Sam is like sleeping next to a kangaroo with restless leg syndrome — no, it’s a nonstop parade of little flippy-flappies and shiffle-shuffles and spontaneous outbursts of preening. 

So Dean makes him a Baby Sleep Sack. 

This is something Dean knows about due solely to one super dumb hunt involving a banishing sigil that had to be drawn in — he still feels like this had to be a misprint — human breastmilk, and that was obviously not happening. But the monster of the week wasn’t going to banish itself, so they wound up at the nearest Walmart, at 4am, picking up what turned about to be an unnecessarily generous supply of baby formula, along with a fresh box of shotgun shells because God bless America*. It doesn’t work, although “lots of stabbing” turns out to be a solid fallback plan, but the point is that while Sam was debating between Digestion Support or Neurological Development, Dean acquired an unprecedented familiarity with some of the products currently available to the sleep-deprived parent. So Dean finds some DIY Baby Sleep Sack knockoff patterns online and determines he can replicate and scale up the concept with some beach towels and duct tape, and the next morning he presents the lumpy but totally functional prototype to Castiel. 

Initially Cas thinks it’s a sex thing (reasonable, it probably is), but once they clear up that misunderstanding, he’s obviously a little peeved by the concept of being swaddled as if he were a gassy baby instead of a deathless sky monster in a sexy dude-shaped can. But Dean must be giving off some serious man on the edge vibes because Cas grudgingly agrees to let Dean tape him up the next time he’s feeling dozy. 

It’s real awkward and takes forever to get Cas bundled up right, and then he’s just kind of lying there on top of the sheets, like an enormous, grumpy baked potato. 

“I could easily break out of these restraints,” he says in a pissy tone after Dean has crawled in and turned off the light, and Dean rolls over to tell him “no shit”, but then he has to stop himself because the guy is already asleep.

Eventually they upgrade to a version made out of some of those trendy weighted blanket things, a few yards of parachute silk, and a whole lot of velcro. The dude looks so damn peaceful that Dean is honestly a little jealous.

*he doesn’t, actually. 

 18.  There’s a sunny afternoon that isn’t the usual Kansas is trying to murder you level of humid so Dean rolls the Impala out into the street for a wash. Cas helps him out a bit initially, although tragically not in a way that involves removing any unnecessary articles of clothing, but Deans sends him to grab a new tub of wax from the shed and he never comes back. After half an hour Dean needs a beer break and goes looking for him, expecting to find Cas lost in thought over whether Turtle Wax is made of actual turtles, or is made to put on actual turtles. Instead he finds Cas crouched on the shimmering pavement at the back of the driveway, sun beating down on him like it has a personal vendetta, and he’s got both wings stretched out real low above the ground. Dean kind of flips out because it’s the type of pose that just screams “stabbed in gut by angel blade” or “migraine from Hell, literally.”

Then Cas looks up, which pulls his wings up a smidge too, which in turn reveals that fully half a dozen neighborhood cats are lounging in the shady patch beneath his wings, spread out on the concrete like blobs of furry peanut butter. No, it’s actually eight cats. There are eight cats.

“Ling-Ling was feeling a little overheated,” Cas says, as if this explains everything. 

And, you know what, at this point, it does.

 19.  Dean has faith that eventually Sam or Cas or the third demon from the left in the second row will turn up a solution for the whole business. Castiel will get to tuck those bad boys back into the secret wing-closet dimension and he won’t have to worry about getting stuck in stairwells anymore, or being reported to the FAA (again). Then they can finally pack up the house, plaster over the more egregious spots of drywall damage, and go back to killing things outside of the tri-county area. The whole thing has been a pretty embarrassing interlude for a couple of dudes who’ve kicked Satan’s ass multiple times — Sam is probably telling other hunters that they’ve been deep undercover to take out a nest of suburban vampires, or a pack of ghouls with mortgages, instead of vacuuming angel down out of the AC unit and considering a Costco membership. 

And sure, there have been some...serious pluses to the situation (see: the other list), but, in his weaker moments, Dean has to admit that he’s kind of going to miss some of the goofy, irritating shit, too — like finding a six-inch feather in the veggie crisper (how? why?), or watching Cas fwap his wings out just in time to accidentally clothesline a jogger, or even the strangely compelling, sorta cheesy smell that starts to float around the house if Cas goes a little too long between hosedowns. 

He has actually grown fond of this shit. Which is 100% the least sexy thing on earth, it’s some genuinely, seriously pathetic goo goo crap, and that’s why nobody will ever hear a fucking word about it. People will ask “so what’s it like, with the wings” and Dean will waggle his eyebrows suggestively and review the highlight reel over an inadvisable amount of rail whiskey. His secret’s safe with, well. Him.

 20.  Seriously though, the bird mites. 

Gross.

[talesofphantombandits]

Zero to Six ~ Hong Kong - Edited Version. Part 6.

Characters: Four X Zero (OC)

Summary: Zero was the first person to be ‘saved’ by One, she was his first honorary Ghost. Her knowledge in tech meant she got the role of ‘Hacker’ she recruited new team members, looked for missions and locations and made sure every security measure was looked at. You know normal hacker spy stuff. But her tough up bringing meant that if needs be she could fight, she was maybe even better than some people on the team knew. But due to One’s protectiveness over her she had to stay hidden, she was more of an actual ghost than the rest of the team was. This didn’t mean she couldn’t have her fun though, over the months of being with the full team she had formed quite a passionate love/ hate relationship with the handsome Four. Who knows what sparks would fly if they were ever to meet. Warnings: Slight swearing, some suggestive flirting in later chapters.

Tagg list: (I know this is a edit of my original story but if anyone wants to be tagged let me know.) @raylan-c​​, @angelic-demonss

The night consisted of looking through the research and planning the best way to go about getting the dictators brother out of the tower in Hong Kong as discreetly as possible.

That wasn't the most exciting part about that night though, at least for Zero. In all fairness she was trying to concentrate on the meeting, but it's hard when a certain blonde haired, green eyed beauty kept staring her down. He even had the nerve to smirk at her when he caught her staring back. Dam him. She hadn't even been in his presence for 24 hours, yet she couldn't decide if she wanted to beat the shit out of him or jump him, kissing him like her life depended on it.

Maybe both?

Five had kindly offered Zero the pull out bed in her converted shipping containment while One made arrangements to get her, her own little space like the others had, a permanent home of her own sounded very nice indeed.  Although Zero tossed and turned most of the night she couldn't say the next morning that she was at all that tired when she woke up, the excitement was coursing through her veins and the anticipation to actually get to do field work was overwhelming her. One knocked on the girls door and dropped off the little of Zero’s belongings that she still had, he must have been back to the hotel room and collected everything, she thanked him but he just nodded slightly. “Still pissed at me I see.” She turned to Five who was sitting at the small table having some light breakfast 

“He’ll get over it.” She gave me her best smile. “Don’t worry.” 

With her belongings now returned to her, she decided to go for a shower and get into some fresh clothes so she’d be comfortable for the flight. She stepped out of the shower, dried off then dressed in some black skinny jeans and threw on a long burgundy striped top. Finishing the look off with some long black boots that had laces all the way to the top and a dark green leather jacket. She slung the duffel with all her clothes in it over her shoulder and grabbed onto her laptop bag then headed out to meet Five on the tarmac.  She walked in the middle, the others chatting away behind her meanwhile One was up front, no doubt eager to get the planes engine started. 

Zero decided to sit in her own section, unlike the others she had some work to do and getting distracted wasn’t a option.  Two took the seat behind her, Three sat across from Two. While Four and Five where opposite Zero, Five sitting in the same row as her. Four just had to placed himself on the other row by the window, the perfect place to make side eye at her. Great! Now she had to deal with a 5 hour flight feeling him burn holes into my head and be the biggest distraction from her work.

"So.” His voice rang through the aeroplane that had just got very noisy due to One starting the engines. “How are you feeling this morning sweetheart?" His voice was like honey, it would something she could never ignore no matter how much she tried. His low tones sounded way better in person than over coms.

She smiled over at Four as best as she could, trying not to show how much the nickname effected her on the inside. "Fine.” She sighed. “More excited than nervous really. It's just great not to be stuck in a room 24/7.” She smiled taking the chance to now turn the tables and tease him. “How you feeling monkey boy?"

"Why do you have to call me that?” He leaned forward in his seat and rested his elbows on his knees staring intensely at her. “You could at least come up with something that sounds a bit more sexy, don’t you think?" He looked at her with a cute pout, something she thought he was trying to melt her with. 

“I think it’s sexy, monkey boy.” Three chimed in and everyone burst into laughter, but Four was glued to Zero.  She just scoffed. "I think you're the only person that thinks you're sexy, well apart from that blonde you picked up at the bar, and Thee of course." 

"Are you jealous, Zero? You know that was for mission purposes, besides I've seen the way you stare at me sweetheart." She just laughed, she’d lost count at the amount of times she’d scoffed at this boy.

She opened her laptop, fully intent on ignoring him the rest of the flight "Keep telling yourself that babe."

"You guys do know where all still here right?" One said awkwardly over the aeroplanes intercom. “Okay everyone strap in and shut up, we’re setting off now.” 

It was about an hour into the flight, everything had been considerately quiet since four at fallen asleep against the window, Zero would steal glances at him every once in a while. Seven announced that things would start to get bumpy, and Three started to get very uneasy. "You know I usually just look at the staff to see if I should be worried." She turned to see him clutching white knuckle to his seat.

"I think you mean the flight attendants, you can just look at me." Two said.

"Oh darling, no offence but you could be on fire and you'd have the same blank expression on your face." Zero turned to raise my eyebrows at Five, who looked back at her just as amused. and a look that said ‘something is definitely going on with these two.’ Zero nodded in agreement.

"You know what sucks guys, that if we were to crash." She looked over at Four this time to see if the commotion had woke him up, he opened one eye from his sleeping state to make a face at Five. "No one would ever care. Like we never existed." He said it loud enough for One to hear in the cockpit.

"You know I can hear you, if you're going to shit yourself there's a bathroom in the back.” Zero just giggled to herself and then got back to her work So this is what it was like to be truly around them, she liked it. It was always fun to hear their bickering over coms but this was even better, a warm feeling had started to invade her heart and a warm fuzzy feeling like home crept into her veins. It was nice to be around the right people again. They fought, they were sometimes asses but this was her true family and for once in her life she started to admire One for bringing such an amazing group of people together. She had decided in that moment that there was no where she’d rather be than here 35,000 feet up with the best bunch of idiots, and if she was to die on a mission she knew she had surrounded herself with the best adopted family she could have ever asked for.

When they finally landed, the colour is Three’s face gradually started to return, Zero took the opportunity while passing him in the aisle to pat him on the back, laughing as she exit. "Hey you little shit, don't make fun of me or I'll find out your fear." He just shouted after her retreating frame. They all dumped what little bags they had taken outside of the plane as One started the debrief one last time of the plan we were about to carry out. After about Twenty mins he decided to wrap it up. "Chowtime." One clasped his hands excitedly as the rest of the team cheered.

Zero decided that sitting at one of the higher tables would be more efficient for her to carry on her work, she’d almost finished on the plane but still had one more section to complete by tonight. She whipped out her note book, not feeling safe getting the laptop out in such an open and crowded space. But as soon as she’d put the paper on the table someone had ripped it out of her hands and in its place a bowl of noodles was set down.

"Hey!" She had began to protest looking up at the thief in question.

What she was not expecting was to be met with Four’s bright green eyes. Closing her note book, he placed it safely back in her laptop bag. "Do you ever stop working?" He sat down on the stool next to hers, and suddenly she was very self conscious. She tried to shake the feeling by directing her feelings to being annoyed he’d took her work, she sighed tilting her head at him. "It's been nonstop for three years of my life, I’m afraid at this point I don't know how to do anything else with my time."

"We could change that." He smirked.

She scoffed again, cracking open her chopsticks a little too aggressively but as to get the point across that she wasn’t in the mood for his flirting. "Excuse me, I'd like some alone time with my noodles."

"No come on.” He laughed, face turning more serious when he saw how fed up she was. “I’m sorry, I think we should start over."

"What?" She turned her head to him in confusion at how serious he’d become.

"We haven't had time to talk properly since you got here, seen as we've only really talked over the wire maybe we should have a fresh start." He held out his hand. "Hello, my names Four."

He at least managed to crack a small smile from her at this, she decided to humour him this once. Putting her chopsticks down, she took his hand and shook it. "Zero."

"What a beautiful name."

“Yeah,” She laughed. “Well, you should hear my real one.”

She’d completely forgotten about the electric pulse she had felt when they had brushed hands back in the hotel kitchen. But this time she was holding his hand and it felt like hot lava now, this fact meant she held onto it a little longer than she should have.  Suddenly letting go when the moment started getting awkward, she decided to focus on her noodles instead. 

"You know.” He started to talk again but she didn’t look up, taking another mouth full of noodles. “I was surprised that you didn't suddenly knock me on my ass when I came in." This made her laugh. "You've threatened me with it enough times."

"Well I could say the same for you.” He leaned in closer to her, his breath tickling the inside of her ear. “But there's plenty of time yet for that sweetheart.”  In a lower voice he continued. “I'll make you wait. Get you when you're least expecting it." He pulled back just to see her reaction, and was pleased with the blush on her cheeks.

She cleared her throat and decided to change the subject. "Are you nervous?" She asked not daring to look at him. "For the mission I mean."

"Why does everyone always ask me this." He huffed, leaning back on the stool.

"It's okay to be scared Four, fear is what keeps us alive." He didn't say anything, but when she finally looked up at him, he was looking at her with an emotion she just couldn't put her finger on.

"All you can ever do is your best." She smiled and finished up her noodles.

"I guess, hey! when did you get so smart?"

"Maybe about an hour ago?" They both just chuckled, finally the air around them settled.

"You guys finished? It's time to go." Seven said from behind them, putting his hand on Fours shoulder.

"Yeah, we're good." Zero smiled at Four as he passed her, her laptop bag.

As Zero started to walked out of the restaurant, Five caught her by her arm and linked them together, she then proceeded to hand Zero 50 dollars. "You were right, they did it in Vegas." She said defeated.

"Two and Three eh, maybe there hope for me after all." They both laughed as they crossed the road to catch up to the others who had already entered their hotel for the mission.

[fandomlurker]

A Ponderous Rewatch: Jockey For Position

Now that we’re done with that long cameo, it’s time for our feature presentation for tonight, and it’s a doozy!:

We open with Pinky frantically running on a spinning globe while Brain stands above him on the…globe holder? I don’t know if that part has a name or not.

“[winded gasps] Can I stop now, Brain?”

“Not until I finish my demonstration.”

Brain, that’s just… Well I was about to say it was mean, but given that Pinky understands the details of his plans better when Brain demonstrates it or draws elaborate diagrams, maybe it’s for the best? I doubt Brain could make that large globe spin just by using his hands, and Pinky’s been seen a lot of times running on the mouse wheel in their cage so he’s gotta be pretty in shape. Still, it feels like Pinky’s been running for a lot longer than he needed to…

You know what? I change my mind. It is a bit mean, Brain.

“When I build my reverse geotropic arrestor, Pinky, and throw it from the North Pole like this…”

The word “geotropic” doesn’t quite sound right. I wonder…

…Okay, yeah, Brain’s getting worse at naming things.

“…In a matter of seconds the cable will become taut, gravity will cease, and everyone will fly off the face of the Earth!”

Oh my GOD, Brain. This has got to be the stupidest plan you have come up with yet! Nothing about this will work.

Well, there goes poor Pinky.

“Leaving us alone to assume control.”

It’s still “us”, huh? Noted.

Long Pinky.

“Egad, Brain, brilliant! Haha hehe heh—!”

Pinky, sweetheart, I know praising Brain is kind of your thing but this is one time I’m going to have to call you out on your bias because this is super not brilliant and I’m actually a little worried for Brain’s mental state.

“—Oh wait, no, no. What’s going to keep us from flying off the Earth?”

That’s one flaw of many, Pinky, but I guess it’s as good a start as any.

“We will duct tape ourselves to a tree.”

Because the tree will totally stay in the ground when the Earth abruptly stops spinning. Not that it will stop spinning, because none of this makes any sense.

Brain, did this idea come from, like, a dream you had or something? Is that why the plan is working on dream logic?

I know this is a comedy cartoon and this is all a joke but sometimes Brain’s plans are so fucking out-there I just have to roast him for it.

“Unfortunately we still need to raise money to buy a one billion ton magnet. But I have a solution!”

Oh boy, can’t wait to hear the solution to this one. It’s gonna be stellar if the whole plan today is anything to go by.

Oh nice, Brain’s the one sewing for a change! Usually this is Pinky’s area of expertise, but it’s always nice to see that Brain can do some classically domestic things too.

“Tomorrow is the running of the Kentucky Derby. Do you know what that is?”

Most of my knowledge on it comes from “My Brother, My Brother, and Me” goofs, so my mind keeps autocorrecting it to “Kenfucky Derby”, but go on.

“Umm… Oh! A very large hat?”

“Promise me something, Pinky. Never breed.”

“I’ll try.”

Well, that’s going to come back to haunt them.

“The Kentucky Derby is the biggest horse race of the year. There’s a one million dollar purse going to the jockey riding the winning horse.”

“And I am going to win that purse!”

Okay, first off: Pinky, are you just going to stand there and stare at Brain as he gets changed? Like, I understand they’re naked normally and this is the exact opposite of stripping but umm…

Secondly: Brain, did you really have to get that up close to tell Pinky this? You two are making this too easy for me.

“Zort, Brain! A million dollar purse?!? Ooooh!~ You’re going to need matching pumps and earrings for that!”

Pinky’s got his priorities in order.

“Focus, Pinky, focus!”

“Now watch.”

And now Brain’s ordering Pinky to watch him dress and I just…I have no words. This is all so suspect. Why do you two even need a dressing screen if you’re usually naked anyway? And it shouldn’t matter if anyone sees you get dressed unless this is some weird reverse nudity taboo you two have developed and if that’s the case, why are you allowing Pinky to watch? And if it’s for a dramatic reveal WHY ARE YOU ORDERING HIM TO WATCH YOU CHANGE???

This episode is already so goddamn wild.

I am really not sure how I feel about that pan-up of Brain when he’s thrust his pelvis forward. At least the outfit is cute, though.

“Narf! Oh, Brain, I get it! You’re a beautiful lawn ornament!”

“Beautiful”, huh? Also noted.

“Look at me, narf, I’m a pink flamingo! Ahahaheh!”

Oh LORD, Pinky, how are you—?!?

“I’m a cement deer! Ah hah!”

PINKY, STOP, YOU’RE SCARING ME! D:

“Oh, I’m one of the seven dwarves, Brain!”

That’s more acceptable but Pinky, sweetie, warn me if you’re going to nightmarishly shapeshift again, okay?!

I guess we can add that to the list of random abilities Pinky has.

“Stop it, Pinky, or I shall have to hurt you.”

You are much calmer about this than I would be if this happened in front of me, Brain.

“Oh. Right-o, Brain. Narf.”

“Now let us make haste, for we have much to do before the race begins.”

“Poit.”

So then we cut to Churchill Downs, and I can only assume another roadtrip adventure was had off-screen.

“First, Pinky, we must visit the stables.”

“Inside, we will find the winning horse.”

“Err… How are we gonna do that, Brain?”

“The racing form, Pinky.”

My bet’s on... [squints] hLUUNO the horse.

“By analysing the velocity-based pace line, mile turf win and bayer speed figures, we’ll find a grade one stakes claimer who’ll give us a key horse situation.”

“Key Horse Situation” would be a great band name. Also, whoops, little bit of an error on the name plaques, background artists.

What do your mouse eyes see, Pinky?

“Err, can’t we just ride the pretty one?”

SHE!

So here she is, one of the few characters debuting in the Animaniacs run that will matter to PatB lore going forward aside from our main duo.

A fun fact for you all: Phar Fignewton’s name is a triple reference joke. “Phar Lap” was a champion thoroughbred race horse in the late 1920s and early 1930s. Fig Newtons are small pastries filled with fig paste. Lastly, “Fahrvergnügen” was a slogan for Volkswagon starting in 1990. Translated, it means “driving enjoyment”.

Phar Fignewton makes a whinnying noise and ends it off with a goofy laugh.

Brain is not impressed.

“Heavens, they’re multiplying…”

Pinky is instantly smitten with her.

BONK!

“This is a business trip, Pinky!”

“Oh. Right. Sorry, Brain.”

“Here is our horse.”

“’Daddy’s Little Angel’…”

I guess it’s an ironic nickname.

“Pinky… Are you pondering what I’m pondering?”

“Whu… I think so, Brain, isn’t Regis Philbin already married?”

…

Now I’m wondering if Pinky is suggesting that one of them marry Regis or if he’s suggesting that Regis marries the horse. Either way, what the fuck?

Yeah, same.

“The race, Pinky. By combining the statistics and my low body weight, this horse cannot lose! The prize money will be ours!”

GAH! Brain, I’ve had enough minor heart attacks from this episode because of Pinky’s eldritch morphing ability, I don’t need another one of your bizarre close-ups to do the same!

“Now I must take the place of the real jockey.”

“Hello?”

“Is this the Jockey who’s going to ride ‘Daddy’s Little Angel’?”

“Yeah.”

“This is Ed Mcmahon from Publisher’s Smearing House. You’ve just won ten million dollars.”

Pinky delightedly and silently listening in and chuckling in the back is precious.

And honestly, Brain, I don’t know why you’re crouching here, but it’s also cute.

“I won ten million dollars… I WON TEN MILLION DOLLARS! I am outta here! Later!”

The mice are lucky that he’s so excited about winning all that money that he forgets to do basic things like ask when and how he’ll get the money.

“Louie! Louie!”

“Later!”

“Who’s gonna ride my horse? I mean, Louie is the smallest, lightest jockey in the entire world!”

Did you know that there’s a weight requirement for jockeys, but no height requirement?

“Not anymore!”

“[GASP]”

Whoops, I just noticed another error, though it’s minor: Brain’s jockey outfit throughout this scene is light tan and purple instead of the pea green and purple that it’s supposed to be.

“You’re a jockey?!”

“Actually, I am a mouse in the early stages of an elaborate scheme to take over the world.”

The more this happens, the more I’m starting to think that Brain does this shtick on purpose to emotionally and mentally disarm people who would otherwise suspect that he’s not human. The fact that it works shows you just how idiotic the human beings of this world are.

“Well, fine, we all need a hobby but…will you ride my horse?”

Oh, sir, I think it’s much more than a hobby at this point. If only you knew…

“I shall ride! And win!”

His design is a little odd here, but it’s still a good pose.

So Brain next has to be weighed to make sure he meets the requirements.

“Saddle: Seven pounds. Saddle and rider: Seven pounds 3 ounces.”

So if you can recall from the previous rewatch post, a house mouse on average weighs 19g, and a common wood mouse weighs 23g (it can be up for debate which type of mouse Brain is).  Converting Brain’s 3 ounces of weight to grams would result in him weighing 85.0486g.

Brain does have a bit of a cute little potbelly thing going on, but he’s also consistently much smaller in height and width than the average adult mouse in the series. I think the incredible difference in weight is mostly coming from the heft of Brain’s, well, brain and skull…and the muscle mass packed into that tiny body to help keep him upright.

“A genetically perfect jockey! This is fantastic!”

Please don’t phrase it like that.

“…Let’s look into early retirement.”

That jockey on the left is going through some shit, man. He looks like how I feel after working an eight hour shift on the holidays.

And so we skip to the beginning of the race!

That poor, poor jockey…who changed colour schemes for some reason.

There’s Phar Fignewton with a jockey who honestly looks like he’s high.

And here’s our little mousey fella, who has somehow managed to make this aggressive horse obedient.

“Camptown race is five miles long, do-dah, do-dah.~”

He’s so happy he’s singing to himself! This is honestly so precious that I completely forgive him for not getting the lyrics correct.

Coincidentally, Daddy’s Little Angel is positioned next to Phar Fignewton.

“Ooh, isn’t this exciting, Brain?”

Uh oh.

“Pinky, what are you doing here? Your weight will disrupt my winning calculations!”

I don’t know if it’d be that off, Brain. The combined weight of two mice is still much less than that of a human jockey.

“But Brain, it’s too exciting! I—“

[TARGET LOCKED]

“Oooh! Heh. Hello.~”

I think I’m going to save my thoughts on this whole…thing until the end. Right now I will say, however, that I wasn’t quite expecting the tongue-hanging-out-of-gaping-mouth lovestruck/horny??? reaction.

“Pinky, the race is starting!”

Too late, Brain.

And we’re off!

Bye, Pinky.

“There’s baloney in our slacks…~”

Pfft.

So as the race goes on, we get to know a few more of the horses’ names: Isle of Yap (a nice callback to the first PatB short), Flamiel (which is apparently the WB writers’ favourite word?), and Leggo-my-Egoiste (a double reference to an old Eggo slogan and the name of a cologne).

The other jockeys are more than a little surprised by Brain and his steed taking the lead early in the race.

Phar Fignewton is trailing way behind.

Meanwhile, Pinky’s woken up from fainting, seeing the oncoming horses—

--and promptly freaks out and stumbles back down again.

“Victory, she waits for me! Oh, the do-dah-day!”

You really have to stop tempting fate like this, Brain.

Phar Fignewton’s very tired, but what’s this?

Is that…Pinky in harm’s way?

ThePowerOfLove.mp3

Determined and fueled by her inexplicable crush, Phar Fignewton starts gaining ground on the other horses.

Brain didn’t calculate for this!

…Oh! Hi, Warners! Looks like they’re cheering Phar on.

“Oh no! Yah! Yah! Yah!”

I didn’t think whips were allowed in races like the Kentucky Derby, but apparently they are. Their use was only restricted—not banned—in the summer of 2020, which is alarming to say the least.

On a different note, I know some of you folks are now jotting down the fact that Brain knows how to use a whip. I see you.

She makes the save!

And she also wins the race! Way to go, Phar Fignewton!

“In the words of the great Willie Shoemaker: ‘Nuts!’”

It was a good try, Brain, but honestly I’m glad you failed this time if only so that you wouldn’t embarrass yourself with your actual world domination plan’s failure later. Maybe take a couple nights off to rest up a bit and formulate plans that aren’t totally bonkers, hmm?

I might as well go ahead and talk about this now. I…am conflicted on this whole Phar Fignewton thing. It makes for a very strange one-off joke about Pinky instantly falling in love with a distaff counterpart of his that’s a horse for whatever reason…but the fact that she’s not a one-off character is baffling in and of itself. Like I’ve said before, she’s mentioned a couple of times going forward as being Pinky’s girlfriend, or as a bizarre joke at Pinky’s expense about him being in/having been in a relationship with a horse. There’s even a small running gag about Pinky’s reaction to people’s disgust about it: “People can be so intolerant!”. I don’t know if the joke is supposed to be one about racial segregation or a wink and nod to queer folks in the only way that the writers could get away with in a cartoon at the time (in a “see, Pinky’s down for a relationship with anyone, even outside of his species!” type of way).

Phar Fignewton herself is a sweetie but besides that she has no personality to speak of and we’re just meant to assume based on physical appearance that she is equivalent to Pinky. And like, she hasn’t been uplifted to human levels of intelligence and sapience like Pinky has because of Acme Labs, but she seems to be naturally sapient for some unknown reason and just simply unable to speak English.

On top of all this, the relationship is very shallow and the only reason we’re given as to why Pinky likes her is because he finds her pretty. It’s perfectly in character for Pinky to easily fall in love, as he does so with other animals a couple more times in the spin-offs, but it just feels weird that this is the one that sticks around purely to become a running gag that gets mentions that are sometimes literal years apart from one another.

And listen, I know the writers most likely made this a thing just because they thought it was a funny joke and a few of them managed to remember about Phar and would use Pinky dating her as a gag. I know this. But it doesn’t make it any less confusing and weird. I remember the jokes about Pinky and horses from way back when I first watched Animaniacs and the PatB spin-off when I was a kid and I never had any context for it because I don’t think I ever saw this specific episode. Coming back as an adult and seeing all these episodes in order and watching this one in particular and finding out the context is “Pinky thinks a horse is pretty and the horse and him are in love and long-distance dating now” is both underwhelming and leaves me with more questions than answers.

…Also, if my earlier theories on why the writers made this joke are correct, does this mean Phar Fignewton is metatextually a beard for Pinky?

I just don’t know, folks. You’re welcome to leave your thoughts on this in comments.

Let’s wrap this up.

So as we can see, Brain is, as usual, back to work on another plan that involves—

—a goddamn cannon, holy shit! What is he using the glue for? That’s a little ominous, given what’s been involved in this episode.

There’s a hammering noise in the background and we see Pinky putting up a photo of Phar Fignewton.

“Pinky, will you please stop that? I’m trying to concentrate on tomorrow night!”

Wow, you’re more irritable than usual, Brain. I didn’t think some delicate hammering would annoy you that much.

“Mwah!~”

…Despite my ramblings earlier, that’s very cute of you, Pinky. I’m sure you could’ve gotten a better photo, though.

“Why, Brain, what’re we gonna do tomorrow night?”

Try to take over the world, of course! Right, Brain?

“Guess.”

…

Umm, wow. That’s a first. You look like you’re absolutely enraged, Brain. All this over some hammering sounds?

This had me taken aback a bit when I watched it the first time, not gonna lie. We’ve seen Brain after a plan’s failure plenty of times before. He’s been frustrated, sure. Humiliated at times, or maybe he just sighs in resignation and walks off into the sunset. It always ends with him simply using these feelings to fuel the fire in him to do better tomorrow night.

This is the very first time we’ve seen him jumpy and irritated at the most minor of things and so angry that he literally refuses to participate normally in his and Pinky’s shared catchphrase. And this was for a plan that was just to fund the real plan! So why is this time any different?

Oh.

OH.

Okay, that’s… That makes a lot of sense, actually. Damn.

Hey, fanfic writers? Ya’ll ever use this as the very first time Brain experiences romantic jealousy? Let me know.

“Oh yeah, try to take over the world. Right.”

I think even Pinky’s put off by this development, if his hesitant and quiet finishing of the saying is anything to go by.

And that’s what we end off with.

All in all, this episode is a wild ride of strangeness in small moments and bizarre additions to lore and ends on the first subversion of the long-running closing gag of the series. It’s not exactly a great episode, but that ending is intriguing enough for one of the main purposes of this rewatch. In short, I’m just baffled.

Luckily the next episode is much better. Next time, the mice head on down to Tennessee to seek world domination via country music.

See you then!

[samwrights]

When You Wake

I literally cannot believe I wrote this. This was originally started to celebrate Yaku’s birthday (happy belated, my love), and to satisfy the requests for a Noya/Yaku threesome. Uh, don’t come for me. I couldn’t find inspiration in the normal hq world, so we’re making it weird. If y’all thought Between the Lines was long, this monstrosity is 13.2k words. 13,200 words, with a shameful, side amount that is smut. Literally, this is all just plot.

ear candy list is, surprisingly, on the smaller side. 

⤞ Revenga - System of A Down ⤞ Violent Pornography - System of A Down ⤞ Question! - System of A Down

pairing: Yaku/Reader/Noya

w a r n i n g s//TW: rape, murder, blood consumption, mentions of getting roofied, gore, blood from wounds, supernatural AU, revenge, temporarily mute reader, reader is converted to a vampire without consent, dubcon, death, spitroasting, dirty talk, senpai kink. PLEASE read through these warnings over and over until it is clear to you that this is not going to be an easy read. The reader literally goes on a revenge spree. ⤞ THIS. IS NOT. AN EASY. READ.

Now that you have been thoroughly warned, enjoy.

The way media and films and television glorified and romanticized college parties never could have prepared you for the fateful encounter in the alleyway on a muggy August evening. Primarily, college parties were depicted as fun—drunk nights on the weekends with your girlfriends, maybe hook up with that cute boy from chemistry that somehow ended up with you grinding on him on the dance floor. Though, in some genres, college parties end up with the protagonist roofied and raped and follows how the heroine spirals and recovers. But it only was supposed to happen in the movies, right?

It wasn’t supposed to end with you halfway to death, knocking on Hell’s door with blood pooling around your lifeless body in a barely lit, bleak alleyway. It wasn’t supposed to end with warbles of light fading in and out of your vision as cars passed you by, unknowing there was someone in the alleyway between a closed down butcher shop and a florist who had already gone home for the evening. You were only in your early twenties with only two more years of university to compete—it wasn’t supposed to end yet.

“We can’t just leave her here.”

“I think she’s too far gone, Yaku. We were too late.”

The voices swirling around you were unfamiliar, or at least from what you could gather. In your condition, it was impossible to discern them in the first place—were they even real voices? They sounded entirely too angelic from what you could process in your catatonic state. Maybe they weren’t; maybe death had taken you without your knowledge and the jury that decided whether or not your soul would ascend to heaven was passing their judgment on you.

“I can save her, Noya.” One of the voices, presumably this Yaku character snarls back with urgency. It is the last thing you hear before your limp body is pulled from the concrete. The movement, regardless of how delicate, causing more blood to rush from your open wounds and draining any ounce of consciousness from your mind. “You mind trying to collect the fallout?”

Nishinoya, though shaking his head, gives a subtle grin that cannot be seen in the dead of the night. He pulls out a large mason jar from the satchel he’s carrying and places the mouth of the jar where blood is pouring out profusely from a knife wound. The man collecting the blood knew entirely too well that once his mate sets his mind to something, there was no changing it. Not that it served as a recurring issue; if anything, Noya was grateful for Yaku’s stubbornness considering it was that exact trait of his that had given the former his second chance at life.

The two of them move swiftly, trying to make it back to their hidden mansion, that was quite a distance away, in secret. Yaku is doing all that he can to make sure not to disturb your body so as not to open any wounds further that could force you to bleed out and meet the grim reaper. He wasn’t a very pleasant creature, but that was a story for another day. At the same time, Nishinoya is almost fighting to keep the same steadfast pace while simultaneously holding the now half full mason jar just under the knife wound. The blood was beginning to thicken, turning from bright red to a deep crimson as it oxidizes.

The moment they enter their private garden, Nishinoya busts down the door to their home with expertise, alerting the other members of their clan. “Akaashi!” He screeches, his voice bellowing out in decibels that should not be used unless trying to project a voice in an amphitheater with no microphone. Thank omniscient beings for noise cancelling enchantments. “We need you!” An almost timid, young looking man enters the foyer where Noya is still collecting blood and Yaku is holding your limp body in his arms.

“So that’s where you two have been,” Akaashi deadpans, unfazed by the steadily decaying girl. “Bring her to my room. You can store what blood you’ve gathered there while I remove the knife and get her patched up.” Though calm, the three of them move at breakneck speeds, laying you face down on an operating table while Akaashi suits up. From what he can tell, this was going to be a real mess, considering how deep the knife is. The three of them knew what was to come and what their designated roles in this moment were—Nishinoya was to separate the blood he had gathered from your body and ration them into IV bags, while Yaku was provide suction in case of a bleed out.

“We can save her, can’t we?” Yaku asks quietly, tools in hand.

“That will depend on her will to fight,” Akaashi says quietly, half due to concentration, half because he genuinely does not have a valid answer. “You’ve done this time and time again, Yaku. If anyone is going to save her, it’s going to be you.”

Upon coming to, the only muscles in your body that can move are your eyelids. Peeling them back as much as you can muster, you notice the only light filtering into whatever room you are currently residing in is coming from the blaring moonlight through an open window. The shadows around you make up areas and shapes that you are entirely unfamiliar with, causing you to sit up impulsively to make sense of your surroundings. A mistake on your part, as you are immediately met with a searing pain in your ribs. With further inspection from your droopy eyes, you learn that your torso is entirely bare, save for the copious amounts of medical grade bandages and gauze around your breasts and stomach. Blood pooled somewhere along your left shoulder blade where the pain felt the worst.

“You shouldn’t try to sit up right now.” The same voice you faintly remember from the alley, the one that didn’t want to leave you, before blacking out calls out from across the bedroom. The room is quite large from what you could tell and his smooth voice seems to be leagues away. “Lay back down before you bleed out again—I’ll change your bandages.” From the shadows, a man whom you presume to be Yaku emerges before you, perfect pale skin and sandy brown locks nearly reflecting in the moonlight as he approaches. His face, while incredibly handsome, is blank and is strictly business as he saunters near. Even as he is gingerly tearing off the tight bindings around you with next to no effort, his face remains nonplussed. Even as he washes the dried, crusty blackened blood off your bare chest, nothing. “Do you remember anything?” Yaku’s voice is quiet and somber as he asks his question. He takes your silence as a no.

Your mind is a hazy smog, trying to recall any type of memory at all. Rather than actual imagery, you see a white light when you close your eyes—you see colors you don’t remember seeing before, you hear crying. You hear your name. Not just your first name or a nickname either, you hear your entire given name along with your birthday, even the time of birth.

Any attempt to recall memories is interrupted by a sharp pain. You suck in a breath as Yaku tries to lift your arm to wrap the fresh bandages around your torso, causing him to grimace ever so slightly. This task was a bit easier for him when you were still unconscious, but nonetheless he is glad you’re awake. When the pain subsides, you peel your eyelids back once again, staring at the man sitting at the edge of the bed in wonder. Why was he tending to your wounds? How did he fit into the story? “You needn’t worry about that right now, [name],” he murmurs quietly, reintroducing the same delicate tone you heard before blacking out in the alley. Yaku can tell you’re wondering how he knew what to respond with and how he knew your name but, after a small deliberation, he decides it’s best not to overwhelm you right now. “Get some rest, little one,” he speaks again, “I’ll be here when you wake.” Before you know it, you’re out like a light once again.

Yaku exits his and Noya’s shared bedroom to dispose of the sullied bandages, only to be greeted to the sight of his mate leaning against the bannister closest to their room. “How’s she doing?” Yaku’s lips tighten, the seam becoming a hard line as his grimace deepens.

“She doesn’t remember anything but when I asked her if she did...”

“What?” Noya presses, perturbed at the silence. Very few things in their lives rendered Yaku speechless.

“She started seeing memories of her birth.” The two shorter leaders of the clan meander their way down the grandiose staircase in silence, each step accompanied by the dramatic chimes of a grand piano coming from the foyer. The music stops when they reach the bottom of the staircase, Sugawara pausing his fingers and quirking a brow at the couple. It was a rare occurrence to see both of them, or Nishinoya in the very least, look so morose.

“What’s got you guys looking so down? You look like someone just died.” The musician muses. Sugawara Koushi always did have the most twisted sense of humor—that was partially the reason that Yaku had kept him around. The other primary reason was solely for bragging rights and an inside joke between the clan because no matter how many times Sugawara introduced himself as Beethoven or Bach, people assumed that they all just meant he was talented. Not that it was literal and Sugawara was just a name he’d adopted when he earned another century of life.

“Ha ha,” Nishinoya drawls satirically, for both himself and for Yaku. The latter excuses himself, parting ways because he knows he can’t handle conversation right now. “Come on, Suga, that’s not funny. Yaku’s already taking this really hard and if we lose her...”

“Humans die all the time, Nishi. A conversion isn’t a guaranteed shot at a second life and Yaku knows that so why is he—“

“Because she was found just like I was. Wrong place at the wrong time and it ended with...” the shorter of the two can no longer find the words to speak. It didn’t matter how many centuries old everyone in the clan was, it didn’t matter that they had watched plagues take countless lives or even bared witness to some of Jack the Ripper’s victims—it was a different monster entirely to genuinely watch a person become prey to another human. “I hope she makes it through, if only to rip out the guys throat that stabbed her.”

Three months had passed since you had first woken up. Strength is returning to you little by little, though not enough for you to hold consciousness for more than a few minutes a day. Regardless, Yaku is relieved to see you making some form of progress, to see that you’re somewhat handling the conversion well. The head of the clan was almost always present when you did awake, though there were instances in which his partner, Nishinoya, had been the one to greet you.

Nishinoya was much more boisterous than his other half—much more talkative and, considering you haven’t found the strength to speak quite yet, that was entirely okay with you. You learned that Yaku and Nishinoya had been together a very long time and Yaku had saved his life ages ago, as the latter phrased it. In admiration, Noya mentions his partner’s abundance of patience—a skill that he himself lacked—and determination to see justice being served had swayed the younger of the two to continuously stand alongside him. Through these little vignettes of their life, however, Noya makes it a point to acknowledge the fact that he was once almost too overbearing for his senior, often intimidating him with just how open and blunt he was. “Nishi, are you boring her with details of our mundane life?” Yaku asks bemusedly as he enters the room you’d been resting in.

“Hey, we aren’t boring. I’m not boring you, am I?” Noya looks to your face, your expression not giving much away save for the light in your barely live eyes. It was far from mundane—if anything, hearing the stories made you so curious considering from just barely glancing with the two, they seemed to be a strange couple.

“We are,” Yaku confirms, though as to what, you aren’t sure. You were certain you hadn’t said anything aloud, considering you practically can’t. “Let’s just say I can hear your thoughts. It’s how we’ve been communicating with you.” The head of clan saunters over casually, sitting at the edge of the mattress opposite to his partner. Both of their rich, golden irises are gazing at you, gauging a reaction from you as he shares this bit of information. Weird, was the only way for you to describe it. Though Yaku didn’t need to read your mind to know that; the slightly panicked look on your face gave away your thoughts.

“Don’t think we don’t know about those vivid wet dreams you have of us—“

“Yū, you weren’t supposed to tell her that!”

“What? We’re all adults here—“

“Nishi, get out,” Yaku covers his face in utter horror, even more so as his partner exits the room laughing as he does so. Shameless Noya. The door closes, leaving you and Yaku alone—were he able to go red out of embarrassment, he probably would have. “I-I am so sorry about him.” Testing out the information that the man beside you supplied moments ago, you reassure him that it’s fine—that you have no control over your dreams and that he probably doesn’t have a way to turn off this strange ability. For a moment, he’s relieved because you seem to be accepting everything with grace thus far; maybe telling you the truth wasn’t going to be the worst case scenario.

But the thought of the truth makes Yaku hesitate—there was no way you were ready to handle the entirety of the truth. At the moment, you could barely handle your weekly check-ups with Akaashi—the household doctor. After a formal introduction, you learned that Akaashi was the one who patched up your wounds when you were first brought to the little mansion. From what you gathered, he was quiet and direct, kind even, but you hated the weekly visits. Not only was Yaku carrying you rather painful, as you’re still recovering from your injuries, but Akaashi had to do regular blood transfusions because, according to the young doctor that you swore could not have already completed medical school and residency, you had lost a lot of blood during the incident.

An incident in which you still can’t recall.

“It’ll come to you,” Yaku says morosely, probably responding in accordance to your thought. The man beside you gets up from the bed, holding his arms open to you, silently asking for permission to pick you up. “Sorry, I’ll try to be more gentle.” His arms are cold as he lifts you up, but all you can focus on is the throbbing in your back as he moves you. A sharp intake of breath leaves your lungs as Yaku supports you physically, adding gentle words of encouragement because he can almost feel how much pain you’re in. Every step down the steep staircase adds another metaphorical bruise to your tender skin, a small groan leaving your throat each time. And while you’re not uncomfortable with the idea of being in Yaku’s arms, you’re grateful when you’re laid down in Akaashi’s office along the leather exam seat.

“How are you feeling today, [name]?” The young doctor asks as he preps you for your blood transfusion. Much to your surprise, you feel hungry—ravenous, even—like you hadn’t eaten a meal in months. Maybe you hadn’t; it wouldn’t be that ridiculous to consider since your memory was a little shoddy.

“You’ll feel better after the transfusion,” Yaku reassures from the chair he’s sitting in beside the exam bed, “we’ll get some food in your system before we start your physical therapy.” There’s an interesting intonation in the way he speaks this, you notice. Like there’s an underlying joke or hidden agenda that you don’t quite understand, but at the same time, the strange phrasing doesn’t trigger your fight-or-flight system in any capacity. If anything, it just seems that Yaku wants to help you regain strength as best you can.

Though, that was currently proving to be a challenge as well. While you weren’t entirely sure how long ago your injuries occurred, you knew a decent amount of time had to have passed. One of your first check-up appointments with Akaashi led to the explanation of the muscle atrophy in your legs from lack of use. Once you slowly became acclimated to being awake for more than just a few minutes a day, Daichi was introduced to you as your physical therapist. He was another enigma—entirely too young to be as experienced as he was in his field, but you decided against questioning it—temporarily mute or not.

Being mute was another issue that was taking much longer than you liked. You hated only being able to communicate through Yaku’s inexplicable talent of being able to read your mind. There were many occasions in which you wanted to ask Akaashi about your condition and how bad of a state you had been brought to him in; how you wanted to ask Sugawara how he’d learned to play such a vast variety of melodies so expertly; how you wanted to tell Nishinoya that every time he tried to feed you a soup or something, it tasted foul and metallic no matter how fresh it was.

You’d have to wait until you found your voice again.

After your check-in with Akaashi, Yaku brings you to Daichi’s office just down the hallway. “Hey, there’s our little fighter.” Daichi was probably the kindest out of everyone in the household. He had a warmth to him that seemed to contrast his icy fingers when he’d hold and guide you for your therapy sessions—a little uncanny that everyone in this mansion had freezing finger tips. Maybe everyone had poor blood circulation?

From the opposite end of the room, Yaku stifles a laugh by biting his cheek. Glad to know that your deconstructed concept of time hadn’t waned on your sense of humor. Meanwhile, Daichi lays you gingerly on a mat on the ground with you back flat as he wraps a resistance band around one of his ankles, as well as your own. “Alright, [name], I’m gonna help you get your leg up and I want to see you pull your leg up as high as you can go, understood?” Five didn’t seem like a very large number, but for now it was the goal. If you could at least lift your legs five times, it was progress considering the severe muscle atrophy in your legs.

Some days, it was difficult for Yaku to sit with you through therapy. He can see the way you wince in pain because you’re trying to relearn and rebuild your muscle groups; other times he just wanted someone, anyone, to blurt out the truth about the situation and hope that it inspires you to push yourself to heal. Some days, it was difficult because Yaku found himself just wanting to hold you in his bed that you’d taken over while the two of you plot out the revenge you didn’t even know you needed. But it wasn’t always bad. There were days, like today, where the progress on your therapy was going much better than anyone in the clan anticipated. There were days where Yaku would ask what you remembered about...anything, and you would have some form of answer for him.

On those days, Yaku began to realize that your memories were coming in chronological order. From the first time you sat up or crawled, to your first word even. In fact, Yaku’s favorite moment that he’s witnessed thus far was watching your father teach you to take your very first steps—it seemed to recur during your therapy sessions, as if subconsciously encouraging you to try to walk again. Maybe that’s why today, you were able to provide Daichi with double the repetitions that he asked for—a sure sign that strength and muscle were returning to your legs. But even with what progress you’ve made so far, Yaku makes it a point to carry you back to your room and lay you back in bed to rest. As always, Yaku tucked you in as he spoke, “get some sleep, little one. I’ll be here when you wake,”

For weeks on end, dreams stop becoming dreams. Per usual, Yaku awaits in the corner opposite of the bed where you rest, allowing your memories-turned-dreams to flood his mind. Each night, they’re progressively becoming more and more clear—you’re able to recall outfits that you’d worn twenty years ago with perfect detail, scars and scrapes that your friends had, even when that one sock was in the corner of your closet from when you were seven. But the clearer these chronological dreams became, the less frequently you were waking up and it was beginning to worry the head of the clan. While you were still obtaining your weekly blood transfusions to help sustain your life, it seemed to be that they were no longer providing you with enough energy to move past your current stage of recovery. “Yaku, she needs to start feeding,” Akaashi had instructed him during a consultation.

“I still haven’t told her—“

“Come on, man, it’s been almost eight months,” the house doctor groans. There was no reason to coddle you anymore as your life-threatening wounds had already healed for the most part. Sure, there was still discomfort from your broken ribs but even those had almost entirely healed over; your physical therapy sessions and rehabilitation with Daichi were going rather well but, at this point, if you didn’t start getting more substance in your body, this would be the end of the line for you. Akaashi had advised him this for weeks now, but Yaku still hesitated. “We’ve got to tell her.”

“I know, I know. I just—“ the sandy brunette ruffles his claws through his mussed locks in frustration, “I think her power is developing. And I’m afraid if we drop the bomb on her now, it’s going to halt or hinder that progress.”

“Either tell her or feed her,” Akaashi bites, “if you don’t, she’s not going to have any power because she’s going to starve to death.” With that, Akaashi walks away because he has nothing left to argue at this point. While he may be the youngest of the brood, this made Akaashi the most volatile of the group. More often than not, he was relatively kind and patient, timid even, as he was in his human life, but also very stern and strict—all of it coming from a place of love. And Yaku, knowing the tremendous amounts of emotional pain that the former had received, the leader of the clan dare not disrespect him.

Rather than making it an argument, Yaku roams around the lodge to grab a couple bags of O negative out of storage before heading back to his room. Much to his surprise, Nishinoya is sitting at the edge of the bed already, a slight look of panic washing over his features. “Yaku, I think something is wrong.” Without another word, the creature in question hands the bags of blood to his mate before resting his forehead against yours—a sure fire way to make sure that the mental images he picked up from you were pristine and uninterrupted as you dreamed—ignoring the cold sweat beading on your forehead.

You were at the Pike house. It was the first week of the new college semester and your roommates had convinced you to tag along to a frat party they were invited to. The night was going along exactly like a corny romantic comedy—you had locked eyes with a man from across the dance floor. He was sweet—much kinder than others you had met that night. He grabbed you drink after drink, but your memory begins to go fuzzy after that despite being able to recall memories of your own birth or the stupid girl that picked on you when you were twelve and even the small pimple on her temple that you figured was probably making her insecure. So if you were able to recall these memories, dreams, whatever they were, with such perfect clarity, why could you not remember leaving that party? Did that mean he had been drugging your drinks? It was entirely possible, considering Pike wasn’t exactly known for their hospitality. You vaguely remember the man holding your hand firmly as the two of you weave and bob around people and being met with the sweltering humidity of a muggy August night and your roommates, Yukie and Kaori, were nowhere to be found.

You were dragged into a dimly lit alleyway, stumbling with every step that the man had nearly carried you by your wrist alone, reeking of trash that had been long overdue for pick up and maybe even rotting carcasses. It was difficult to tell considering the drugs you assume that had been placed in your system and it was even more difficult to recall the memories. Bits and pieces of your memory were coming back in patches—though the face of the man that had brought you there was not one of them. Nor were any of his friends that had joined in, appearing at the opening of the alleyway. You remember the sound of tearing fabric, salacious laughter of the group of men surrounding your body. You remember feeling searing pain as one held a knife to your throat, warning you that he would slit your throat if you tried to scream.

The threat was replaced in the form of one of the frat boys ramming a half-hard cock down your throat, knife still in place along the jugular vein, while every orifice and inch of your skin had been violated. Vaguely, you remember trying to bite down on the cock in your mouth and run away. The one that threatened to kill you had missed your throat when you ran and threw the knife into your back instead. Foul screeches of demeaning slander left their mouths as they kicked your ribs in at full force, as if the knife deep in your back wasn’t bad enough.

You remember them leaving your bare, naked body in the alley for death to take you.

You remember their faces.

Awakening with a start, you sit up abruptly, only to fall back into the pillow with a resonant clacking noise followed by a dull throb to your forehead. Yaku recoils, mostly out of shock rather than pain—maybe laying his head on yours wasn’t his finest moment. “You remember,” he balks after he’s recovered from the impact. You’re trying to scream, no sound leaving your lungs while tears barreled out from your eyes. Remember? Why was that a memory? Why did it have to be a memory?

Nishinoya acts hastily, tearing open one of the O negative packs and draining half the contents into his mouth and holding it there as he shoves Yaku out of the way. The smaller of the two slats his lips over your silently screaming mouth, puncturing a small wound to the inside of your lip with his teeth and letting the blood trickle in the hole. It feels like pudding trying to push through a sieve, the flavor of copper and iron tampered out by an earthy, meat flavor—maybe venison? The desire to scream fades away as well, rather being over taken to have whatever nourishment Noya is giving you to enter you more and more. Out of necessity, you mold your lips over his, sucking hard on his lip while wrapping your arms around him because it just didn’t seem that he could get close enough in this moment. Despite the fingers you have threaded in Nishinoya’s gelled locks, he pulls away with a shit-eating grin, his tongue swiping away at the trail of red liquid dripping from the seam of his lips. “Careful, might make a guy a fall in love with that kinda kiss.”

“M-more,” you croak out, deflecting the younger one’s flirty comment all together. Yaku and Noya’s eyes go wide upon hearing your voice for the first time. The former acts on instinct, downing the remaining contents of the bag in his partner’s hand before reenacting the same gesture as the latter. Yaku’s lips are much softer than his partners—or maybe it’s the quelling of whatever hunger that hadn’t been satiated that eased the desire. With Yaku, his tongue laves against the wound that Noya had made, coaxing the fluid to enter at a much more steadfast, intimate pace. Even well after he was done feeding you, Yaku sucked on your tongue, encouraging you to reciprocate, so as to get every drop. “W-What was t-that?” You pant out brokenly as soon as the two of you break apart. The question startles the two sitting at the edge of the bed—now that you had your voice somewhat back, Yaku no longer needed to communicate for you. That also meant he couldn’t control the flow of responses to not overwhelm you.

“I think it’s time you finally got your answers,” Noya mumbles, treading carefully as he looks at his partner. It was a silent reassurance that, no matter how this scenario proceeded, he would be here to support Yaku. To make you more comfortable, he adjusts the pillows behind you so that your back can rest properly along the headboard.

“M-my d-d-dreams?” Having just rediscovered your voice, it still came out in sharp, staccato-like whimpers, but the boys weren’t going to discourage you from speaking. Much like everything else Yaku had done in his life, he had done with patience and your recovery and rehabilitation were no different. But your throat was still raw and it still hurt to speak—thankfully with your mind rushing like a bullet train, Yaku was able to grasp the entirety of your question.

“I think they’re more memories than dreams.” His words come out like a condemning nail in a coffin—like a doctor telling you you only have a few months left to live—because that means everything you recalled from Pike house, the drinks, the party, the alley, all of it was real. “Noya and I found you that night barely clinging to life. Naked, soaked in blood and semen. You died that night, [name].” As he speaks, his cold finger tips traced along your breast until you feel the throbbing mound of flesh—a scar of where the knife had been thrown into you from the back and exited out the front. “The knife had gone through your aorta. Akaashi spent a long time trying to repair it but was unable to.”

Your body begins to tremble as silent sobs wrack through your body. You died? “S-so how ‘mi h-here?” Yaku looks over at Noya in discernible worry—not because the head was afraid of telling the truth, no. He was afraid how you would react to the truth. His partner looks at him poignantly, mentally reminding him that this was eerily similar to how Noya had reacted when he had learned the truth as well. Yaku’s head bobs in agreement, swallowing his hesitance before speaking again.

“I made you like me. Like the rest of us.” Your brows furrowed in confusion, suspicion even, because there’s no way that he’s saying what you think he’s saying. But rather than offering a verbal response, Yaku holds his hand out towards Noya, in which he places the other bag of O Negative in his palm. While the original plan was to just feed you once again, the second Yaku tears open the bag, the hunger you thought had eased returned at full force. You rip the bag out of his cold hands, elongated claws scratched at you as you do so, before you down the contents like a shotgunned beer before you could realize what you were doing.

“T-This is a joke, right?” You balk, voice clear as day due to the strength returning to your body once again from freshly consumed sustenance. But the tensions have gone down significantly, to the point where Noya feels relief and excuses himself to feed, leaving you in Yaku’s solitary care. Once the two of you are left alone, Yaku can only shake his head as he continues to press on with the truth. This had to be a cruel, sick joke. But it wasn’t funny and you certainly weren’t laughing. Yet Yaku had no reason to lie to you and the snack you had just consumed moments ago was meant to serve as a final nail in the metaphorical coffin to make you understand that he was telling the truth.

“We have been alive for centuries—storytellers dubbing our kind as vampires—but originally, we were simply called the Damned.” Yaku proceeds to go through the history, much like he had with all the others before you, because he feels the need to share the truth, needs to tell you that your death isn’t the end of your life but rather the beginning like it had for all those in clan. The most recent addition to the family was Akaashi. He was less than a century old, compared to the others. Akaashi had been tied to a tree and shot repeatedly, only to watch his lover drown to death, who had been tossed into the ocean before shortly before with a thirty pound weight attached to his ankle with his last few breaths. Yaku and Sugawara were the ones to set his nearly lifeless body free with the head of the clan performing Akashi’s conversion. This lead to the newborn to coming back to slaughter the community that decided to his partner needed to die for being a man in love.

Each of their stories was nearly identical. Sugawara, who apparently has been every major known classical musician in history hiding under the guise of his shapeshifter ability, and Daichi were hanged together for being a homosexual couple after their village had carved unsavory words on their bodies to remind their reincarnations of their sins. Yaku and Noya had saved each of them respectively, and allowed the two of them to go on a rampage to annihilate their executioners.

Lastly, or rather firstly, was Nishinoya himself. As Yaku goes into detail about transforming his partner, he tears up ever so slightly. And as you listen actively with no interruptions, no questions even, as he tells you about how Nishi was wrongly imprisoned for theft and how the other prisoners constantly violated and sodomized his body because he was smaller than the rest; how he ended his own life by ingesting whatever toxic chemicals he could find and how Yaku broke him out of prison to start a new life together. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” the aforementioned prisoner re-enters the room, a fragile smile on his thin lips as he takes a seat beside his partner. “So you finally told her?”

“B-but why m-me? Why not just let me die?”

“Do you not want revenge against the assholes that killed you a year ago, [ name ]?” Noya bit before Yaku could jump in. “They’re still alive after what they did to you—how is that fair?!”

A year?

You had died a year ago. How did your family take the news? Your roommates and best friends? Nishi was right—it wasn’t fair at all. Yaku raises a hand towards his partner in attempts to get him to calm down before he got too riled up about the situation and before he could get out the most important question. “I have to know, [ name ], if you want to continue on with this lifestyle or not before we proceed with the real rehabilitation.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You tilt your head to your newfound savior. He said it so nonchalantly, as if learning how to walk or learning that your diet was blood wasn’t rehabilitation.

“Well, we have to teach you how to feed properly so your strength gets back up—unless you just want us to feed you for the rest of your eternal life.” Noya jokes, waggling his eyebrows suggestively in what you’ve come to understand is his typical, joking demeanor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t complain.”

“Noya, can you maybe save the flirting for later?” Yaku grits out—once again slightly mortified. It brings laughter to the man in question; it was like rewatching his own life all over again, seeing him get flustered at the smallest amounts of forward affection. It was endearing, if anything.

“Sure. Let’s get [ name ] healthy first then.”

After coming to terms with your transformation and feeding more regularly, still off of a supply stock that the mansion carried, you were able to attend therapy sessions with Daichi more frequently. And while you hadn’t entirely regained muscle or use of your legs, you were able to at least stay awake more often than not. Rather than being cooped up in the bedroom, you found yourself lounging near the entryway where Sugawara would entertain you with the countless pieces he had written over the years. It was soothing and peaceful and Sugawara’s jovial personality kept you from spiraling into a deeper hole knowing that you died. It was still an insane concept, but the five men in your new home had worked hard to keep you sane. “Ready for your session?” Yaku asks gently as he takes a seat beside you on the luxurious sofa. He’s not as uptight as he was now that you knew the truth, though he still did get flustered when you would openly show affection. Even if it was something as simple as leaning your head on his shoulder like you were now.

“I think so,” doing what you could, you scooted and clambered onto Yaku’s lap, wrapping your arms around his neck firmly while your weakened lower limbs splayed across his lap. He tucks one arm under your knees while the other supports your back, effectively scooping you up and brings you to the kitchen where the blood stock is kept. You quirk a brow at the creature carrying you, knowing you’ve already had at least three bags since you woke up.

“Gotta get your strength up so you can recover faster,” is all he responds with before he sets you down on a bar stool. Yaku tears open the bag of O Negative and, much to your shock, he drinks half the contents without swallowing before his lips are on yours. One of his fangs finds purchase on the inside of your lip, sinking down and creating an opening for the blood to flow in for quicker delivery. Usually, Yaku would only have to feed you like this when you were in a weaker state, so it felt a bit out of place for him to be doing it right now, but it certainly wasn’t unwelcome. While the blood trickles into the wound, Yaku’s tongue swirls with yours intimately, coating the cavern with the liquid and he doesn’t stop until every ounce is clear from both of your mouths.

“Not complaining,” you say slowly, “but is there a particular reason you wanted to feed me instead of just letting my chug the bag?” As you ask your question, Yaku is draining the rest of the contents of the bag into his mouth before pulling you towards him in another kiss. The question is repeating over and over in your head, he can hear it loud and clear, but the other thoughts are spurring him on further. The thoughts of how Yaku’s touch makes you crave more, makes you want to feel his lips along your skin and his large hands gripping your thighs tightly. Sometimes he’s unsure whether or not you conveniently forget that he can read your mind, sometimes he wonders if you let your salacious thoughts run wild on purpose. His chest is heaving, deep intakes of breath are plunging through his nostrils despite the blood being long gone. He doesn’t want to stop but centuries of control are begging him to.

“We’re going somewhere today, after your PT,” Yaku pants out after he pulls away, tilting his head down because he can’t look at you right now—he’s afraid to. He needs to try to dampen whatever feral thoughts are running through your brain so that his own self-control doesn’t just get tossed out the window. “Noya and I are taking you out for your first hunt.”

“Uh, am I ready for that?” Shit, you can’t even walk in your own yet. Yaku laughs, grateful for the reprieve from your sexually charged thoughts when you point out the setback.

“That’s why the extra feeding tonight. I needed to make sure it was in your bloodstream so that you had enough strength for PT and the hunt,” Yaku adjusts you from barstool, scooping you into his arms once again to bring you to the mansion’s back garden. Daichi is standing a short distance away adorning a tight muscle tee and joggers, while Noya and Akaashi are sitting at the small table with cigars in hand. Yaku steadies you in front of Daichi, the latter holding onto your hands to make sure you don’t fall, before the former joins the rest the clan at the table. Sugawara emerges from inside the mansion as well, passing off a cigar to Yaku while lighting his own. It was uncomfortable in some capacity to have everybody watching—you couldn’t help but feel as if you were being critiqued on your performance.

“I’m going to be one step ahead of you, and I won’t let go, okay?” Daichi holds his arms out to give you space to take your first step. You take in a sharp breath, the scent of scent of cigars and pine trees overwhelming your nasal cavity. When did you sense of smell become that strong? With trembling limbs, you cling onto Daichi’s muscular forearms, praying to god you didn’t fall as you took a step forward.

“Hey, look!” Noya cheers from a distance, nudging Yaku in the stomach. “She took a step!” The excitement in his voice was evident because, after months of constant aid, Noya has come to have a soft spot for you almost as much as Yaku does. The two of them are watching, utterly enthralled with the way you’re only moving mere millimeters—but millimeters is better than nothing considering the muscle decay and atrophy that had taken place over the last year.

After the first few steps and curling your toes in blades of grass, your feet begin to relax as you tremble forward. Gripping Daichi with all the strength in your hands, you pick your right foot off the ground and place it forward. “That’s good, [ name ]! Gimme one more,” Daichi, a therapist in more ways than one, encourages you to continue moving, wanting to make sure both legs were receiving equal treatment. You repeat the motion with your left leg, taking two full steps. While not perfect, you kept moving forward with his guidance until his calves hit the stone wall of the garden fountain. Considering where you started, twenty five feet was a tremendous distance to cover. “You did amazing, [ name ].” The vampire holding onto you smiles big, pride swelling in chest like a father praising his daughter for taking first in a beauty pageant.

Yaku and Noya are by your side immediately in celebration, the latter much more overt with it as he’s hugging you and holding you up. “What do you think, Daichi? Is she strong enough to at least witness a hunt?” The former asks. Mentioning the “H” word again perks your ears up because a part of you almost wishes to not have to engage with whatever a hunt entails, but part of you also knows that this is your life now. Everything you thought you knew was no longer valid—this was your rebirth, your awakening.

“I think she’ll be okay if one of you carries her for it—“

“Ooh, I’ll do it!” Noya cheers almost too loudly in your ear as he’s still holding you. Without so much as a chance to offer a rebuttal, you’re swept up into his arms as he stands at full height before glancing at his mate. “Ready to go?” Yaku gives a nod, gripping tightly at the satchel over his shoulder before the three of you are off at breakneck speeds. They’re silent as they travel—perhaps because were they to open their mouths at this speed and velocity, they would be catching a whole lot of bugs in their mouths. To your surprise, the three of you end up outside ten-foot-tall brick walls and a chain link fence.

“This is a...”

“A prison,” Yaku answers simply, as if he were answering with what his favorite color was rather than his favorite meal, “considering our diet, we choose to collect our sustenance from those who do not deserve redemption.” There’s a malignant, dark twist in the headman’s words.

“Personally, I prefer going after the rapists and child molestors. Those bastards deserve to be drained of every ounce of blood.” Noya snarls—you could tell it was personal for him. But how could he tell? Surely it wasn’t just written on placards outside of prison cells.

“Easy. Walk in, ask them what they’re serving time for, and their minds fill in the blanks.” The foreboding you sensed from Yaku deepened even further; deepened to the point where it felt like a magnet drawing your eyes towards your savior. But he looked anything but. Yaku stood merely a few inches taller, his claws sharpening and turning black while red overtook the once golden hues of his irises. You look up at Noya curiously, wondering if he’ll undergo the same sort of transformation, but before you could even question it, the gold in his own eyes had already molded into crimson rings.

The three of you enter the building with ease, aiming for the top floor because, according to Nishi, that was where they kept the worst criminals. It played out exactly as Yaku said it would—ask them what they were imprisoned for and, if they were in captivity under the basis of rape, first or second degree murder, sexual assault, or anything involving a minor, he would sink his fangs into their jugular vein and drain them dry. Though he announces his satisfaction, he remains in this strange form that he has presented you with as Nishinoya passes you off into his arms.

The smaller of the two repeats the same process, taking down two prisoners of his own before taking the satchel off of his partner’s shoulder. Noya continues questioning prisoners, letting Yaku’s power of mind reading acting as the judgment call, before pulling out a small, sharp knife from the satchel and slitting each victim’s throat while holding them downcast like a gavel banging down the rule. As blood fountains from their necks, Nishinoya holds fresh IV bags over the openings to collect whatever comes out like rain. Was this how they ended up getting blood for you to feed over the past year. “Yes,” Yaku answers evenly, looking down at you with his crimson eyes, “but we were hoping to actually teach you how to feed tonight. Are you up for it?” Every nerve in your body seemed to scream no, like you shouldn’t be witnessing these events let alone doing it.

But your guts are telling you yes, yes this is now your way of survival. These men were horrid, their victims needed justice. You needed justice. Giving Yaku a small nod, he gives you instructions while the three of you search for your very first meal. Considering neither your fangs nor claws had grown in, as you were very much still a baby by all intents and purposes, Noya would have to incapacitate your prey for you while you bit the inside of your lip, reopening the same puncture wounds from earlier, to allow easier access for the nutrients to enter your body. Once they were out, Noya would puncture the jugular vein for you, while Yaku dipped you down far enough to feed.

Your lips latched on to the raw skin, hooking your own canines for leverage as you draw the blood from your dinner and the moment the warmth seeped into the opening, all doubts about what you were doing had flown out the window. You adjusted the way you’re sitting on your victim, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders as you continuously sucked every drop of life from him. “Did she just—“ Noya questions, not missing the fact that you had just moved your atrophied legs. And while Yaku is very aware of his mate’s balking, he can only focus on the way your lips mold against your meal’s neck or the muted slurping noises bubbling from your lungs like a woman starved. In a sense, that was quite literal. Noya looks over at his partner—silence wasn’t typical of Yaku when asked a question—but words are lost on him when he sees the way Yaku’s eyes are hungrily staring at your form and he’s unsure if its due to hunger or hunger. The moan that leaves your tongue when you finally pull away from the now empty body confirms the shorter one’s suspicions. “Not that seeing you turned on doesn’t turn me on, but you might wanna put that away, Morisuke.” Noya teases before walking towards you, the call of his given name causing Yaku to snap out of his stupor. Well fuck, he snarls bitterly in his head. He was gonna have to feed again, considering all the blood he had just consumed went straight to his cock.

You feel alive—more alive than you felt in ages. And despite your attempt being incredibly shaky, you managed to stand on your own two feet, using the wall to brace yourself. Noya rushes over to your side to try to hold you steady, asking if you’re alright. “I’m more than alright, Nishi, holy shit.” He has an arm under you, carefully bringing you back towards Yaku, though for the most part, you’re walking entirely on your own.

“So what, have you guys just been giving me snacks this whole time?” You sneer teasingly, though Yaku looks away because your accusation because it isn’t entirely wrong. The blood packs were indeed “snacks” but were usually only used to stave off hunts, that way they didn’t just decimate the prison on an every other day basis, but were also used as post coitus replenishments.

“One more?” Yaku coughs out, as if choking on his own spit. “We can do this one together, if you like.” He’s trying to be polite, despite the feral look in his eyes while also trying to calm down the lust and adrenaline running rampant in his system.

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” As opposed to carrying you this time, Yaku flanks to your empty side, helping you walk between him and Noya until you came upon your next victim. This one was larger than the last few—stocky and skin marred with stories of a brutal past. No matter which way you looked at him, he looked bitter, and after asking him what he was in for, you figure he was a perfect candidate. After all, intentionally murdering his wife and three children was heinous by definition. Yaku approaches the much taller man, crouching ever so slightly in the event your meal tried to escape; not that he could even if he wanted to. The leader of the Damned was behind him in seconds, snapping his neck to disarm the threat that was his build.

To everyone’s surprise, you made your way over slowly to the now lifeless, six-foot-three prisoner while Yaku punctured holes on both sides of the victim’s neck, allowing the both of you to feed. It was oddly intimate, being so close to someone while sucking the literal life out of somebody. The lapping, sucking noises brought back salacious thoughts to the man beside you, and he’s doing all that he can just to avoid trading sustenance for an erection again. Meanwhile, Noya is watching both of you in amusement. Does his partner realize that he’s gingerly scraping his claws along your spine? Is it out of encouragement, or interest? Yu can’t quite tell, but he finds it entertaining nonetheless. Even more so when Yaku squirms at the throaty moan leaving your lungs when you pull away, lips plump with a bead of leftovers dripping from the seam of you mouth.

Either way, Nishinoya knows it won’t be long now until Yaku cracks. Despite the great amount of self-control he tends to exercise, Yaku is but a simple creature that cannot stave off his desires and Noya is no different. They were going to give way to their desires sooner rather than later, but they made a vow eons ago that revenge must always come first.

One year, three months, one week, and four days. That was how long it had been since you died in the alleyway. Today was the day those boys were going to die for what they did.

By now, you were fully functioning; walking on your own, feeding on your own. The only difference between you and the others was that you still slept, though not very much anymore, and according to Akaashi, it would be a trait that you would grow out of maybe two decades after your first century. That was actually the sole reason there was even a bed in the house—Nishinoya still slept merely because he enjoyed it. He wasn’t like the others who had found a passion project that kept him up around the clock, so more often than not, he would join you in bed. After all, it was originally his bed.

And more often than not, Yaku would sit in the spacious window sill while Noya wrapped his arms around you protectively in your shared slumber, as if to abide by the repeated mantra he had said over the last year—he’ll be there when you wake.

Your dreams are no longer memories, as you’ve got caught up to current events thanks to the playback speed that they paced themselves at. Now, you’re able to recall on every single event of your life that you’ve witnessed thus far with perfect detail—including the faces of your five murderers. Each of them belonged to your university Pike fraternity; two of them were a year older than you, two the same age, and the one who had the knife to your neck was a freshman not yet old enough to drink legally, but apparently old enough to to pull the metaphorical trigger and throw the knife that had gone through your entire body, severing your aorta in your heart.

After researching in the form of disguise, you learned that tonight Pi Kappa Epsilon would be holding their annual holiday gala; fancy words for a giant frat party for those who chose not to return to their hometowns for Christmas. Knowing how these events tend to function—it was relatively easy to sneak in, even with Nishinoya and Yaku flanking your sides. You flashed the doorman a crisp fifty, knowing males always had to pay a fee for entry while women always got in for free. The bouncer grins upon seeing you in a tight, red body-con dress, but the grin is immediately displaced when his eyes land on the two men beside you. Giving your best, most flirtatious smile, you grab both of their wrists before heading inside. “Don’t lose me, okay?” You yell over the pounding music.

“We won’t,” they say in unison. Noya gives you a reassuring smile, hand pressed against Yaku’s back gently, while the latter purses his lips together in discomfort. “Just keep talking to me through here,” he adds, pressing his cold lips to your forehead chastely, “and I’ll find you.” You give him a confident nod before you throw yourself into the throng of people to find your targets. It proved a bit of a challenge, considering the strobe lighting and the myriad of people—all of the men looked the same on top of that. But once your eyes narrowed in on the man you first lured you, it was game over.

Like a tiger ready to pounce, you sauntered over to him, pushing aside whomever he was with at the moment before wrapping your arms lewdly around his neck. He looks down at you skeptically, but otherwise pleased with the bold actions. From a short distance away, Yaku and Noya are hiding like wallflowers, listening to the resounding chant happening in your head that screamed to kill him. “You know,” Noya chimes in lowly, distracting Yaku from the way your hips are grinding and gyrating against the strange man’s, “we could just kill the entire fraternity.” Yaku shakes his head—Noya was always fond of the idea of revenge against all who were guilty by association. While the others in the clan gave into his persuasion, Yaku never found it amusing.

“What if they had no idea that their brother killed someone?”

“They probably bragged about it,” Noya grumbles. From his own experience, the shorter of the two liked to think that he knew how these people tended to operate.

“It’s go time.” Yaku says abruptly, eyes locked onto your retreating form as you pull one of your rapists by the tie and lead him out the frat house. The two Damned maneuver their way towards the quietest space, hunting for a window they can exit out of to follow you without garnering too much attention towards the situation. When they end up on the sidewalk outside of the Pike house, they see you parading—brokenly, complete with fake stumbles to allude to you being drugged again—the man by the tie until he shoves you into the same alleyway.

Close behind were four others, all built and stocky as they traveled in their pack and making their way towards the alley. You were cornered amongst trash and dead rats, the five of them trying to zero in on you, yet you showed no fear. Instead, you stood at full height with the addition of your stilettos, as your body transitioned into it’s more predatory form. “Remember me?” You ask sweetly, cracking your knuckles nonchalantly. Your hair that’s covering the ugly mound of flesh scarred over from your injury is swept over the opposite shoulder, giving them full view as your short, blackened claws graze over the skin. “Over a year ago, the five of you brought a woman to this alley, raped her and you,” a feral snarl leaves your lips as you point to the youngest fraternity brother, “threw a knife into her back that went all the way through her heart and killed her.”

The five of them begin looking over at each other, wondering who ratted out who considering they had never spoken of the night since it occurred. It was easy to avoid, considering the body was never found. There was never any evidence. “W-who are you?” The youngest one squawks out.

“Don’t remember?” Your head snaps in the direction to one of the older members. “I should have bit your dick off when I had the chance.” There’s no more room for talking, no room for rebuttal. Instead, you grab the same man you lured into the alley by the tie, bringing him close enough to snap his neck. When he was neither moving nor breathing, the remaining four began to back up.

“Yo, this bitch is crazy, let’s get out of here—“

“You think you’re just gonna get away?” Noya laughs dryly as it crescendoed into full volume, shaking the walls and mimicking an earthquake that did not expand beyond the walls of the alley. The remaining four fall to the ground, not prepared for such loud noises let alone a trembling earth to accompany the sound. Yaku shakes his head in utter disgust before the crimson ring in his eyes locks with the prey.

“Done eating, love?” He calls out, causing the four other frat boys to look over in horror at the “e” word. Once again, you’re standing at full height, the back of your hand wiping away the blood that had escaped from your mouth from your feeding.

“Not quite yet,” With every step you took, they trembled back, only to be met with your two saviors blocking their only exit. The youngest one is hiding all the way in the back, trepidation causing his bones to rattle within his skin as his back hits Yaku’s calf. “I’m still hungry.” Noya lets out a snort at this—he truly did love your sense of humor.

“You’re next.” Yaku looks down at the young boy, only nineteen-years-old, who had been your executioner. That same boy looks at the leader of the clan in horror, eyes wide because he never in a million years saw this as his end. Effortlessly, Yaku picks him up by the collar of his shirt before tossing him in your direction. Rather than catching him, you gathered your claws together to form a single point, driving the makeshift lance through the stomach of the one who had ended your life. Without verbalizing it, you gave the boys permission to feed on the other two—so long as it wasn’t the one that you had tried to bite down on when he rammed his cock in your mouth.

You had plans for him.

In the mean time, you pull the now lifeless body off of your bloodied hand, drinking down whatever was dripping down your arm before tossing him off to the side; you had one more pressing matter to deal with. The last of the boys—the dessert to your meal was pressed against the wall as he tried to run from this situation, watching in mortification as Yaku and Noya beheaded the other two brothers with their bare hands, feasting on their prey. “Like I said,” you sneered as you approached the last one, ripping off his pants and boxers much like he had when he violated your mouth. “I should have bit your dick off when I had the chance.”

And so you did.

“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” Yaku muses, having finished his meal, gawking at the way you had just left the last one along the wall with his penis bitten off all the way down to the base while you returned to the youngest member again, draining your murderer for all he was worth.

“I dunno, it’s kinda hot, babe.” Noya jokes, watching in amusement as well.

“I’m actually kinda full,” You shrug, having drained the stabber entirely—that put your body count to two full bodies. “D’you guys wanna have the last one? I got all I wanted from him.” At sound of your permission, Yaku approaches the last one with a predatory glare, not daring to break eye contact as he asked you one more question.

“[ name ], do you feel that justice been served?” With a nonplussed grimace, you gave a shrug.

“If anything, these assholes got the short end of the stick. They murder a girl they raped so she comes back from the dead and kills them all with two beautiful men by her side? Yeah, I’m happy with that.”

By the time you returned home, you were an entirely different creature. You felt...free. Like there was nothing else anchoring your dead heart, like you no longer had a tether to this world. Like you had no purpose.

So now what?

Silently you meander back to your shared bedroom to further contemplate your existence, the boys you left behind glancing at each other in concern. “Want me to talk to her? I might be able to better sympathize.” Noya asks quietly so that your now heightened hearing can’t quite pick up on the conversation. Regardless, Yaku shakes his head. He knows exactly what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling and not just because of his ability to read minds.

“I’ve got a few things I want to say to her anyway.” Noya presses a tender kiss to his mates cheek before he flits away to hang out with Daichi as he normally does when he’s not with Yaku, while the head of the clan makes his way to the room. You’re lying in bed already, the dress and stilettos shed and traded for bare feet and a slip. Despite your back turned towards him, you feel the bed dip as he lays beside you, something atypical of Yaku. “How do you feel?” His voice is merely a whisper as he cautiously wraps an arm around your waist.

“Shouldn’t you know the answer?” You retort, but Yaku doesn’t recoil because he knows. He knows the sort of limbo you feel you’re placed in now that your postmortem mission had been carried out. What were you supposed to do for the rest of eternity besides act as an impromptu executioner, feeding off of the worst criminals within a hundred mile radius?

“Is that all you see us as?”

“No,” You say quietly. These Damned men had accomplished great things, from what you knew of them, in their lifetimes. Sugawara has continued composing even well after his other alias’ deaths, Akaashi has been working on a research piece for decades regarding cancer in the form of preventative measures rather than a cure, in addition to a cure. Daichi had participated in the Olympics a number of times, Yaku was once a politician in multiple countries and Nishinoya had worked closely with electronic developers over the years including Microsoft and Linux. “You guys have accomplished so much in your lifetimes, I just don’t want to be some sort of disappointment—“

“[ name ], we never knew were going to do those things. We just kept pushing on, finding out things we were passionate about and since we have unlimited time, we’ve had time to hone and perfect those skills.”

“What if I never do anything that great?” Yaku lets out a sigh, turning your now fully restored body around to face him and pressing his face into your neck. Over the duration of your rehabilitation process, he’d become so over protective of you, wanting what’s best for you in any capacity yet never fully being honest with himself.

“You have time to figure it out,” he mumbles into your own icy skin, lips tickling your veins. “Until then, just stay? With me?”

“Yaku...” he had never fully outright asked you to stay—only alluding to it in the past with talks of the future.

“I-I want you,” he whispers almost uncharacteristically. Being a diplomat, stuttering was not a thing that Yaku did very often. “To stay with us forever. To stay with me forever.” This is it, he figures. It’s now or never. Yaku can’t stand the idea of you leaving the clan, leaving him when he hadn’t yet had a taste of you, had you in any other form than a few mere kisses for feeding or in fantasies. Pulling away, Yaku shifts once again so that his arms are holding his weight above you, his lips ghosting intimately over yours.

Both of you are overly aware of the attraction that’s there—you knew of the daydreams you’d had of him throughout the year and with his ability, he was unwillingly subjected to them. Reaching up slightly, your lips press against his hungrily, your tongue immediately dancing along the seam of his lips, begging for permission to enter. Yaku doesn’t waste a second dropping the support from his arms in favor to press his body fully into yours because he’s been waiting for this moment. It’s evident in his fervent kiss, it’s evident in his ever present erection. A mewl warbles in your throat as you feel him grind against you.

Why the hell had you waited so long for this? Why did he wait so long for this?

There was no more waiting.

Breaking a part for a moment, you pull the slip off your torso hastily while Yaku unbuckles his belt and frees his lower half. Impatience floods you as you tear off the thin Henley he’s wearing, leaving the two of you entirely bare in front of each other. The large scar on your bosom that had made you self conscious for months suddenly felt dull in comparison as you’re met with the varying marks that marred Yaku’s skin. From what you could tell, they looked like whiplashes. “I need you now,” he pleads, ignoring your wandering thoughts as he hungrily pulls you in for another kiss. Though rather short lived, your overwhelmed with warmth and pulsing in your core as his fangs run along your neck before sucking lovingly at your collarbone.

“O-oh,” you moan out wantonly, clutching at his shoulders to keep yourself steady. With no preparation, not that you needed any, Yaku slowly sheaths his member inside of you, the girth stretching you deliciously. For a moment, the two of you remain still to bask in the reprieve you both felt, unaware of the third party member watching pleased in the lounge chair across from the bed. “Fuck,” you hiss out between your teeth as he’s pushing in inch after inch.

“You’re doing so good, princess,” for a moment, he’s impressed—taking eleven inches with little to no preparation can be torturous, and he knew that from experience. “Come on, baby take the last of it—oh fuck yeah,” Yaku groans out as soon as he’s balls deep within you. The two of you are still, enjoying the moment of togetherness before he bottoms out entirely in your sweet little hole. His hips move almost languidly so as not to hurt you but good lord for all that is unholy, is he holding back.

Soft whimpers leave your lungs each time his hips snap back into yours—why the hell hadn’t you fucked Yaku sooner?! A throaty chuckle grumbles in his chest at the thought. Even with him slamming his cock in you at half-force, his mind is intertwined with yours to the point where your thoughts feel like his own. “I had to take care of you princess, wanted to make sure you could handle me fucking you.”

“Then fuck me harder, ass-hat.”

“He likes it better when you call him senpai.” Nishinoya calls out from the opposite corner of the room, as if he wasn’t just leisurely watching his partner ream himself into your core. You let out a scream and at this point, you aren’t sure if it’s because Yaku have a particularly hard thrust with the head of his dick meeting with the edge of your womb or if Nishinoya’s presence surprised you. Even more so to see that he was stark naked, stroking his cock that he’s presenting to your mouth.

“Suck off your senpai, princess.” Yaku whispers devilishly in your ear, holding his cock still within you as he does so. Tentatively, you give a kitten lick to the head before you, testing out Nishinoya’s reaction to the motion before deeming him worthy. A soft grunt escapes him, his body more than welcoming of the sensation—but it just wasn’t enough for you.

“I need a better reaction than that, Nishi,” You joke.

A poor plan on your part.

The shorter of the two looks down at you curiously, a wicked twist of his lip displayed for you as he briefly tosses an amused look towards Yaku, to which the latter lets out a chuckle in addition to the shake of his head before he starts to withdraw his cock from within you. “How’s this for reaction?” Noya chirps before deftly wrapping his claws in your hair, slamming his engorged member down your throat while Yaku simultaneously thrusts back inside you. The carnal desires that had run rampant through your mind on occasion had built to this moment, built up the needy desire that the boys finally had the chance to release with you. “Yeah, you take that cock in your throat, baby. Show us how much you’ve wanted us from the start.”

Nishinoya is absolutely relentless as he repeatedly withdraws and replaces his erection in your mouth, pulling so far back as to have his tip tease and smear pre-cum along your lips, all the while chanting praise and how much he loves you; how much he’s dreamed of having you between him and Yaku. The latter can’t help the stuttering motion of his hips as he unabashedly strokes his member along your walls, the tip of dick all but moving into your womb. “Yeah, princess, take your senpais cocks so fucking good, yeah? You want us to fill all your holes with our fucking cum, don’t you?” You can only wail out around Nishinoya in your mouth in response, clenching and squeezing your pussy tightly around Yaku inside you. The clan head lets out a very audible groan at the abrupt friction. “Oh, fuck yeah. Fuck yeah, senpai’s gonna cum so fucking hard inside you, yeah yeah yeah.” Yaku is absolutely wrecking and ravaging your lower half while all the foul, salacious words leaving him were only serving to turn on his partner even more until the both of them hold still to empty their first loads inside you.

After a momentary reprieve, the two of them withdraw from you, the smallest whine leaving your lips at the distinct emptiness. Between pants, both of the males look to each other before letting out a laugh. “Princess,” Noya calls out from your left, golden eyes light and airy as they gaze at you, “did you think we were going to let you cum?”

“Y-yes?” Why wouldn’t they? Wasn’t that just normal, sex etiquette between partners?

“Oh no, love,” Yaku adds, “We’re gonna show you just how much we love you, gotta coat every inch of your skin in our fluids before you can even think about cumming.” Before you can blink, the boys are up again with Nishinoya taking his position with the tip of his still hardened member teasing the outer lips of your pussy. Meanwhile, Yaku makes it a point to slap your cheek with his own erection, making sure to keep your attention and focus on him. Simultaneously, they thrust into their respective orifices that they’ve traded—Yaku treating you much more delicately versus Noya who shoves his entire mast inside your depths.

“Oh damn, babe, you’re so fucking tight!” The latter howls, throwing his head back in ecstasy. Despite having identical lengths, Nishinoya was much more rough and rigid, your walls acclimating to every vein out of necessity before relentlessly pounding away at your insides. At his pace, your pussy doesn’t even have a chance to miss the feeling of fullness. Your voice is no longer coming out in moans or screams due to the damning pace—only in a broken staccato of warbles from the speed that Noya’s fucking you. “Yeah, baby? Gonna stay here with us forever and get dicked down every night? You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

But with the almost tender, loving way Yaku is holding your throat while repeatedly sliding his cock in from tip to base, there is no actual way you can reply. Instead, you let out grunts and cries of affirmation because you would stupid not to welcome the way these two were screwing you. It’s also more than just that.

These two, as well as the rest of the brood, had taken you in being inches from death, presented you with another opportunity for life that served as an opportunity for you to seek revenge, while caring for you and almost...loving you.

“We do,” Yaku bites, withdrawing his cock from your lips offended at the thought of almost, “love you, that is.” The hand that is cupping your throat moves to brush the backs of his claws along your jaw before pulling your chin and torso up so that Yaku can kiss you fully. There is no lust or wanton desire in this kiss—it’s love through and through that is simultaneously cold yet warm.

“You’ve been dreaming about us for a long time, princess,” Noya grits out, his peak approaching all too quickly with the way you’re clenching around him with no relief. He’s panting heavily, no longer caring about his need to assert his dominance in any capacity; all he can think about is cumming deep inside you while you cum around his thick cock. “We want to make your dreams come true.”

Yaku pulls away from the kiss in time to hear your cries—a delicacy he had never had the pleasure of knowing in a past life—as you cum with Noya. The latter is holding still for a brief moment before withdrawing, his spent body collapsing beside you. You’re sensitive, you realize, as Yaku slides back in to reclaim his space. Your walls are still trembling in the aftermath of your orgasm, but Yaku is much more gentle this time around. Pressing his body flush against yours, he wraps both his arms around you with one cradling your head, the other around your lower back to pull you as close as possible. His shallow moving thrusts in accompaniment to his pulsing girth are enough to trigger yet another orgasm in direct succession, and coercing his own orgasm. “Please stay, [ name ].” He mumbles into your hair as he feels his seed spurting within you. Though you supply no answer due to trying to catch your breath, you only nod in response. Yaku remains still inside you, so as if to seal both his and his partner’s emission within you with his own softening cock, smiling at the simple fact that you had nodded in response. “Get some rest, little one,” He adds, adjusting so that he’s on the opposite side of you and a now sleeping Noya. “We’ll be here when you wake.”

[tarysande]

Lucifer Fic: Sheet Happens (1/1)

For @thedeckerstarnetwork’s Halloween Challenge. @calia05 asked for “ghost” and “trick,” and said she loved Ella and Azrael. This is the result! <3

Also on AO3

Sheet Happens

Miss Lopez delivered the invitation in typical Miss Lopez fashion: as exuberantly as the world's friendliest golden retriever high on Adderall. Clearly handmade, she’d cut the card into the shape of a cartoonish ghost, white bedsheet and all, and covered it with an absurd amount of silvery glitter. Meaning, of course, that it covered him with an absurd amount of silvery glitter in short order. The sparkles stood out against the black of his suit like snowflakes. Or dandruff. Not that the Devil was in any way personally acquainted with the latter.

“Thank you,” he said gravely, holding the glitter bomb at as close to arm’s length as he could politely get away with.

Miss Lopez wore her every emotion not just on her sleeve, but from the top of her head to the tips of her platformed running shoes. Today’s t-shirt featured a sad ghost with a spilled cup of coffee and the phrase ‘Sheet Happens.’ “So, you’ll come?”

“Ah.” Even as the syllable emerged, Miss Lopez’s face began to fall. “It’s a … popular evening at Lux. I do rather feel I owe my patrons an appearance.”

“Oh,” she said, smacking her forehead with the heel of her hand and leaving ghostly glitter behind. “Duh. I should’ve thought of that.”

The glitter was sentient. He could practically feel it creeping up his fingers. He would have to burn the suit; once infected, recovery was impossible. He could only imagine how infested her home must be. The mind behind the creation of the stuff was truly devious; in the darkest of hellscapes, he’d never come across anything quite so … persistent.

“Would you … prefer to offer the invitation to someone else?” he asked, gesturing slightly with the ghost held between the tips of finger and thumb.

This was, evidently, the wrong thing to have said. She wilted, and when she shook her head, even her ponytail seemed sad. “I made it for you,” she tossed over her shoulder, already fleeing back to her lab as fast as her impractically high shoes would allow.

#

“You’re going, Lou.”

Lucifer blinked. Though the music and revelry, sin and sensation raged around him at top volume, the words reached his ears as clearly as if they were spoken into utter silence. Beside him, Azrael slouched, wearing the form so clearly influenced by Miss Lopez.

Or perhaps it was the other way around? The Azrael of old hadn’t slouched. She hadn’t worn bizarre spectacles or sported bowl-cut hair and t-shirts with sayings on them. When she glared up at him, hands planted on hips, her cloak parted wide enough for him to make out today’s offering. In the same cute-cartoon style as Ms. Lopez’s, it depicted a Grim Reaper, coffee in hand and wearing the exhausted expression Lucifer had so often seen on human faces after too little sleep or too much alcohol, next to the words ‘I FEEL LIKE DEATH.’

Lucifer sipped his whiskey to give his hands and his mouth something to do besides reply.

“Not just for Ells. Literally every one of your friends is there.”

He sighed, stepping aside as a tipsy angel with crooked wings tried to press up against his side. The cloying scent of her cheap Victoria’s Secret perfume wasn’t as easy to avoid. Neither was her pout.

“But you’re the Devil,” she whined in a voice he wished he heard much less clearly. “And I’m an angel. It’s sexy.”

“More like incestuous,” Azrael murmured, catching Lucifer so off-guard he choked on his drink. The smug grin she shot him was entirely the Rae-Rae of old. She nudged him with her cloaked elbow. “Still got it.”

He inclined his head at the disappointed angel, sidestepped a werewolf and vampire with tongues so deeply down each other’s throats that witnesses would convert to #TeamWhoNeedsBellaWhenYouHaveEdwardAndJacob at the sight of it, and swiped a bottle of whiskey he refused to see poured for anyone with such undiscerning tastes as the Borat who’d just ordered it. Evidently the bouncers had forgotten the longstanding no-neon-green-mankinis rule.  

Azrael followed on his heels, and though he bloody well knew no one else could see her, somehow the seething crowds parted more easily for her than they had even for him.

“Why are you here instead of there?”

“I—you see how busy—”

“Uh, I see how you haven’t talked to anyone for longer than two minutes, your piano’s nowhere to be seen, and you’re basically oozing sulking-Devil-do-not-approach vibes.”

“You try my patience, Azrael.”

She shrugged. A trio of sexy nurses—or perhaps maids; it was hard to tell given the lack of fabric—contorted themselves into shapes he should have found pleasing to avoid being too near to her. One attempted to fall toward him, but he slid to the side so she ended up grappling with one of the evening’s nineteen (at last count) Captains America.

“Yeah? Well, you’re bugging me too,” she said, evidently oblivious to the effect her presence was having. “You didn’t even read the card, did you?”

“The … excuse me?”

Azrael’s prodigious eye roll involved every muscle in her face. “From Ella?”

A twinge of something like regret turned the whiskey on his tongue to ashes. He’d dropped disco-ghost into an evidence bag before it could do any more damage and left it at the precinct without sparing it a second thought.

Azrael thrust that same evidence bag into his chest hard enough to send him staggering back half a step. Another angel got partway through a curse Lucifer had a hard time imagining any of his siblings speaking before she realized the Devil to whom that curse was directed. He sensed a new rule for the bouncers brewing.

Of course, the most persistent of the angels presently irritating him didn’t obligingly flit off into the crowd at his glower. He’d no idea how someone so vertically challenged could make him feel small, and yet. The evidence bag and its spectral occupant had fluttered to the ground between them, where it lay like a murder victim bathed in blood glittering red from the overhead lighting. Sheet happens.

He bent from the waist, snatching up the invitation and stalking toward the elevator. The sea of demons and various sexy professionals and animals and … bloody hell, Sexy Donald Trump was infinitely worse than the worst mankinied Borat. Some things couldn’t be unseen.

And then he was in the elevator, and it didn’t matter that Azrael wasn’t with him because she’d be waiting for him with her ridiculous fringe and, beneath it, eyes that always reflected the brother he could have been, perhaps, if he didn’t fail so spectacularly so often.

He scanned the room when the elevator door opened but saw nothing out of place, and when he called out, no one answered. Azrael could creep and hide and lurk as effectively as the angelic purpose over which she held dominion, but rarely from him.

He opened the evidence bag and dumped its contents on the bar, releasing the spirit and its miasma of sparkles. The bloody thing looked so bloody cheerful—and not at all like any of the spirits he’d had occasion to meet over the millennia.

Then again, give the thing a spectral ponytail and a cute t-shirt and maybe—

He silenced the thought by reaching for a bottle. He didn’t, at least for the first burning pull, even bother with a glass.

He poured the second drink. By the third, he was ready to open the damned—ha bloody ha—thing. In the ebullient handwriting so familiar from paperwork and post-it notes, Miss Lopez had written, “My brothers made Halloween more about tricks than treats, usually at my expense. It would be ‘boo’tiful if you could come to my party. COSTUMES MANDATORY.” Instead of her name, she’d drawn a pair of ghosts. One was grinning. It had a ponytail. The other was taller; it held a microphone. It also had devil horns and a tail.

It was grinning, too.

Lucifer closed the invitation and pushed it away with trembling fingertips.

“Why aren’t you there, Lou?”

He gripped the edge of the bar until the moment before the marble would have crumbled. “Surely you know better than anyone, sister.”

The sound she made, caught somewhere between a gasp and a cry, was enough to turn his head. “I��m not—Lucifer, you know I’m not—”

“But you will,” he said. “Because they’re human. Because you’re you. And because you will do as you must. So forgive me for choosing to spend this night of specters and shadows amidst those whose deaths, when they come, will not weigh near so heavily.”

Moments stretched into minutes. Azrael’s jaw worked, and her expression said the words she chewed were bitter ones. Finally, narrowing her eyes, she said, “That’s bullshit.”

Unexpected.

A flush rose in her cheeks and her eyes sparkled not with admiration or sisterly love, but with anger. “You’re sad their time is finite, so you’re wasting what time you do have sitting around feeling sorry for yourself. Listen to yourself, Lou. No, seriously. Like, stop for one minute and actually hear the crap coming out of your mouth.” She glanced down at her hands like she was trying to figure out just how much damage they were capable of inflicting. “You’re so … dumb. Like. Just … dumb.”

And though he wanted to protest, wanted to explain in painful, specific detail just why death and eternity and banishment from Heaven made his situation so much bloody worse … he didn’t.

Because Miss Lopez had drawn them as grinning ghosts. To her, this night was treats and costumes and friends and, as in so many traditions throughout all of bloody human history, defying the coming dark by facing it head-on. Perhaps the current tradition didn’t involve bonfires or sacrifices, but he’d be bloody damned—more damned—if gorging on candy and gathering in friendship and depicting the things humans knew went bump in the night without truly knowing how to name them as cartoons and bad puns wasn’t the very same flavor of ritual.

He released his grip on the bar. His hands glittered.

“Costumes are mandatory,” Rae-Rae reminded him.

When he glanced over his shoulder again, she was gone.

#

He stood outside, listening to the laughter within, for fifteen minutes. He raised his hand to knock eighteen times. He turned to leave at least seven.

“I’m gonna do it if you don’t, Lou.”

Bloody sisters.

He knocked. Moments stretched into eternities.

The door, decorated with glimmering ghosts and glittering pumpkins, opened, revealing Miss Lopez in all her pool-noodle-turned-double-helix-DNA glory.

For a moment, Miss Lopez’s wide eyes were so like Rae-Rae’s—the same belief in him; the same, dare he say it, love—that Lucifer couldn’t find breath for whatever foolish, nonchalant nonsense he’d usually have opened with. And when those eyes filled with glistening tears to accompany a grin no drawing could possibly capture, he was the first to look away.

“You came! In costume!” Leaning forward, she squinted at him, then reached out and plucked at his costume. “Oh my God, Lucifer, tell me you didn’t cut eyeholes in a freaking silk sheet that probably cost like, a month of paychecks.”

“I do not lie, Miss Lopez, so I can say no such thing.” Though she couldn’t see it, he grinned at the way horror and delight mingled on her features. He brushed close, close enough to give the phantom equivalent of the hugs she handed out so enthusiastically, and pretended not to feel a little teary-eyed himself at how tightly she returned the gesture. “Who am I to defy your command?”

She laughed and punched him on the arm. “Have you met you?”

“Ahh,” he replied gently. “But have you met you?”

This time, the laughter he heard belonged not to Miss Lopez but to his sister. And though she, too, was bound to her commands, as he stepped into the warmth and light and laughter of Miss Lopez’s home, Azrael’s dominion was the very last thing on his mind.

[formeandmyfics]

More Than You Know (Part I)

JUGENEA FAN FICTION

warning: sex, language, minor drug use

(PHOTO EDIT @ohmygarlands​)

August 1951

Judy stormed out of the master bedroom slamming the door shut behind her. "For heaven's sake," she hissed as she head down the stairs and rounded the corner heading towards the back of the house.

Gene opened the bedroom door looking pissed and shouted from the banister, "Am I going or what?!" When there was silence he shouted her name, "JUDY?!" His response back was an echo of the kitchen patio doors slamming shut.

"Acting like a brat," he mumbled heading back into the bedroom, "like a little fucking baby."

Out in the backyard, Judy was packing a carton of cigarettes against her palm when Gene opened the balcony doors to their bedroom on the 2nd floor and looked down at her. When she looked up at him, he held his arms out wide as if saying 'Uh, hello.' Judy placed a cigarette between her lips and mocked him, just the same.

He pointed at her about to yell but quickly stopped himself. He exhaled roughly through his nose and ran a hand through his hair keeping calm before turning back to her. "I'm meeting up with the guys," he said as more of a statement this time, instead of asking her again.

"I told you, I don't give a shit," she said, the cigarette dangling from her lips as she searched her pockets for a lighter.

"Fine then. Here," he said and threw his expensive lighter down at her. It was a silver-plated, flip-lighter monogrammed with his initials on it that Judy had gotten him as a gift during their wrap party for The Pirate.

Judy barely had enough time to react as she caught it, a bit startled at the force of it. When he slammed their balcony doors shut behind him, Judy lit her cigarette and threw the lighter behind her, landing in the bushes.

"Harry and Jo having a brawl?"

Judy exhaled her smoke as new neighbor, and girlfriend, Lauren Bacall walked into the backyard from their connecting fence gate.

"Yeah," she replied and sat on the edge of the trampoline that Gene had built for Kerry and Liza.

"Can I bum a smoke," the blonde asked scooting onto the trampoline next to her.

"Sure. But if you need a lighter, better go find a flashlight. I threw my lighter somewhere back there."

"I saw," Lauren giggled and took a smoke then took out her own lighter. "What are you two fighting about?"

"What aren't we fighting about, Betty."

"Why," Lauren asked surprised, "You two are finally free to be together, you just got this house, Gene's on the top of the Box Office at work, you're on top the world with your new concert career...you shouldn't be fighting. You should be swinging from the god-damn chandeliers."

Judy laughed, "We've been swinging from the chandeliers together for years. We've done that bit."

"Darling, just because you're playing house now doesn't mean it has to stop."

"I know, and it won't stop, but right now we're just so damn irritated with one another. It's been like that since we got back to LA."

"It's probably just stress. You've been traveling around Europe with your concerts, Gene's been flying back and forth while doing post-production for his film. You're both just having a burn-out. And instead of relaxing together you're both lashing out."

Judy nodded agreeing, "You're probably right."

"When do you go to New York to start planning for your Palace show?"

"I’ve been planning it here. We start rehearsals next month. October 1st I’ll be in New York to start rehearsing on the stage.”

“How long will you be in New York, about 6 weeks?”

“Yes, unless they extend the show. We’ll see what happens.”

“Where are you going to stay?”

“I think I’ll just be at the Ritz while rehearsing and then probably sub-let an apartment in Kay’s apartment building for the rest of the stay.”

"Is Gene going to be traveling back and forth?” Judy nodded, “Then I suggest you two put the bullshit aside and act like rabbits before you're separated again."

Judy laughed and shook her head, "We don't have to put the bullshit aside to do that. Sometimes it makes it even better."

"Oooo," Lauren said seductively.

"Unfortunately, we're both stubborn as hell, I admit that, so we don't just sweep it under the rug easily."

"Well, you better before this weekend."

"Why, what's this weekend?"

"Lawford and I were chatting and he said that he's going to invite some of us to his lake house in Palm Springs. Kind of an, end-of-summer mini vacation."

"Kids or no kids?"

"No kids. Adults only. My husband can't go, but it'll probably be us and Frank and Richie and Junie."

"Frank and..," Judy mentioned with a cautious tone.

Lauren immediately shook her head, "I don't think so. She's shooting a film as we speak. Will you go, it's not too long of a drive. It'll be fun."

"I'd love to just lay on his boat out there on the lake, but I can't promise anything yet. I'll have to talk to Gene about it."

"Make him say yes. You know, with much persuasion."

"With the way his attitude's been, I'm not doing any 'persuading'. He don't deserve it."

"Maybe that's why his attitude is so bad. He ain't gettin' any," Lauren teased and hopped off the trampoline, "See ya later, doll."

"Goodnight, darling."

It was going on 10:30 in the morning when the door to the guest bedroom opened. Gene had his arm bent over his face covering his eyes from the bright sunshine but he looked over at the doorway when he heard the door open. Judy, in a terry robe, sighed and gave him an all-knowing look.

“Wipe that smile off your face, soldier,” he said mimicking a drill soldier.

She walked over to him, “What time did you get in?”

“A little after 2. Didn’t want to wake you.”

He was a little surprised when she got onto the bed next to him and immediately laid her head on his chest. “Does this mean we’ve made up,” he teased swooping an arm around her.

“No, but I still love you.”

“I love you, too,” he replied kissing the top of her hair, “Are you still mad at me?”

“I’m not mad, but I’m not happy.”

“When why are you being so cuddly?” He quickly broke out in a smile, “Morning sex?”

He moved to roll her over but she placed her hands on his chest and sat up, “No, don’t even think about it.”

“Then what,” he said getting a little irritated again.

“Nothing,” she whined in a cute voice.

“Oh, it’s something. The only time you want to lay with me when you’re mad is if you want sex or…” off her look he sighed, “Alright, what do you want?”

She cut straight to the chase, “Well, Lauren was talking and said that Peter wants to get some of us together at his lake house for a mini vacation.”

“In Palm Springs?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“This weekend.”

“Are the kids going?”

“No.”

“Not our kids, I mean, everyone else’s kids.”

“She said no.”

He kept on, “Because if we’re going on a last minute vacation, as much as I love all the kiddos, right now I just want to relax without a dozen kids running around.”

“Gene, she told me adults only.”

“Who’s all going?”

“Us, Betty, Frank and Richie and Junie I think.” When he didn’t respond, she continued, “We’ll all have fun together at the house…doesn’t that sound like a good idea?”

“It’s not a bad idea.”

“I really would like you to go, but if you don’t, I think I’d go anyways.”

“Oh, you would?”

“Darling, I want to go to the lake with my friends away from Los Angeles. I can go on the boat and maybe play some golf.”

“It does sound relaxing.”

“Sure it does.”

“Ya, let’s do it.”

“Good. Besides, Lauren did say she also thinks it’ll be good for us.”

“How so?”

“She heard us fighting last night.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

She ignored his request, “And I didn’t appreciate you throwing your lighter at me like that.”

“I’m sorry. Give it back.”

“Can’t.”

“Why?”

“I threw it somewhere outside last night. No idea where it landed.”

“Jesus, Judy. I really loved that lighter.”

“I’ll get you a new one - with a new inscription,” she said as she slapped his knee and got up.

“I don’t even want to know what it’d say,” he teased back.

“Two words,” she giggled and walked out shutting the door behind her. 

It was a gorgeous, Friday afternoon as Judy and Gene drove his new Chevy Bel Air convertible the few hours east to Palm Springs. The first hour, Gene drove, then Judy switched when they got gas, as she actually loved driving. Now they were only five minutes down the road and Judy couldn’t wait to get there. Both of their demeanor had changed with each other. Except for Gene getting impatient and screaming, “Let’s Go!” as she already made them late on the road, they actually were quite affectionate during the drive. They held hands, snuck a few kisses in and sang together to the radio. Glancing in the rear view mirror, Judy noticed another fancy car speeding up quite fast to them. When they got on her tail, they started honking. “What in the sam hell…” Gene glanced behind him, “Don’t do anything. Just let them pass.” When the car still didn’t pass, Gene turned around more and lowered his sunglasses. The blonde woman had her hair pulled back and sunglasses on but it was most definitely a familiar face. “Oh my God.” “What?” “It’s Lauren,” he said relaxing and turning back around in his seat. “What the heck is she doing,” Judy screeched. At the red light, Lauren pulled up beside them. She smiled and waved. “Hi.” Judy, with her head wrapped in a summer scarf, smiled back, “Hi.” “Hey, Gene, you actually trust Judy to handle your stick,” Lauren joked. Gene smiled wide, “Oh, yes, I do.” Judy slyly smiled and lowered her sunglasses provocatively, “I’m surprised Bogie let you take his car to Palm Springs.” “Always. I bet my husband’s stick is better than Gene’s,” Lauren joked with a pun. “I beg to differ, darling.” Gene chuckled and put his arm on the seat behind Judy’s back, “That’s my girl.” “Bet I’m faster,” Lauren quipped. “I bet you are,” Gene said and Judy hit the back of her hand to his chest. Lauren revved her engine and Judy raised an eyebrow before revving her own. “What are ya, doin’, Judy,” Gene warned. Judy looked at her him and pushed her sunglasses back up on her nose before looking back at the light. “Woman, you better not race my brand new car…” “Call me woman again and I’ll drive your brand-new car off a cliff.” When the light turned green, off Lauren went with wheel screeching but Judy took her time to press on the gas and they smoothly went through the intersection at the speed limit. "You're terrible," he chuckled.

"Please, you really think I'd do that?"

"Hell yes you would, but I just don't want you to do it in my new car. She's a little spit fire that one, ain't she?"

"She sure is."

Dick Powell, or Richie has his friends called him, was helping Lauren with her small suitcase when Judy pulled up behind them. She didn’t park until she was a mere few inches away from the back of Lauren’s bumper. When the couple got out, Lauren looked at the space between their cars, “You are so lucky. If you were any closer, I’d have to kick your ass.” “You can try,” Gene said opening their trunk, “She might be small, but she’s a ninja.” Judy smiled and grabbed her purse as Lawford met up with them, “Hey, the gangs finally all here!”

“Hi, hun,” he said as Lauren gave him a kiss on the cheek and then went over to Gene who shook his hand, “Hey bud.” “Thanks for the invite.” “No problem, it’s going to be fun. Hi, baby,” he said walking around to Judy. “Hi, honey,” she said giving him a kiss on the lips. “Gene, tell ya what, you get those bags, and I’ll take care of this one.” Suddenly, he bent down and lifted Judy up over his shoulder as she happily shrieked, and headed towards the house.                Everyone got settled in and figured out the sleeping arrangements. Peter gave Lauren his room, he took the couch downstairs in his ‘man cave’, Richie and Junie took a guest room as Frank was in the other and Judy and Gene agreed on the pull-out bed in the living room. After having a fabulous dinner that they men barbecued, Judy, Lauren and June washed the dishes in the kitchen as the four men stood outside in the backyard chatting over beers. There was a large window in front of the sink and as Judy rinsed off the dishes for Lauren to dry, she watched Gene. At the moment he was laughing and it made her heart flutter, she couldn’t help but smile. In mid swig of his beer, he mindlessly glanced over and saw her smiling through the window. He took his beer away from his lips and smiled back affectionately. Judy suddenly felt the urge to be in his arms. She bit her lower lip before pointing towards the front door, motioning for him to follow her.  Gene gave her a nod before swigging the last of his beer. Judy dried her hands and excused herself from the ladies. Judy walked out onto the front porch as Gene made his way up the porch stairs. She took his hand and together they sat down on the porch swing cuddling. In silence they watched the sunset over the lake gently swinging back and forth. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Gene turned his head to study her face, glowing in a hue of pink and orange from the dusk sky, “You’re beautiful.” “Aw, darling, that was so sweet.” “It’s the truth,” he softly said putting a hand on her jaw before giving her a soft kiss. Pulling back just a tad, they rest their foreheads together, and Judy whispered, “Hi, darling.” “Hi, darling,” he said back before leaning in for another kiss. Gene softly pulled on her plush lower lip before moving his mouth up to suck on her upper one. When he felt the tip of her tongue nudge his lip, he rearranged his body towards hers more and angled her neck to kiss her deeper. Her mouth was already open to receive him. They’re tongues slowly glided over one another before withdrawing to suck at each others lips again. When they repeated the action again, Gene brought her legs up on his lap to caress her lovely legs that were bare in her high-wasted black shorts. It had been almost two weeks since they had a good kissing session, the same time that it had been since they last made love. Their make out session heated up slowly until the kisses were harder and very sexually charged. Gene didn’t stop until he heard her slight whimper against his lips and withdrew. His face was full of arousal as hers was flushed. He kissed her neck and ran a finger tip down the curve of her breast. Judy was just about to tell him to take her into one of the extra rooms for a quickie when they heard their names being called. The two scooted away from each other a tad just in time for June to stick her head out the door, “Oh, there you are. Come inside, we’re going to have a drink.” Judy took her legs off of Gene’s lap as they got up. He ushered her inside where everyone met downstairs in the ‘man cave’ and gathered around the mini bar. June placed an arm around Judy’s waist as they waited for Peter as he made a drink concoction for each of them, “Are you excited for your Palace show?” “I am so excited, I cannot tell you.” “When do you open?” “I think they’re pushing for October 16th. Tickets should go on sale next weekend.” “Well, we’ll be right there in the front row.” “Make sure that you do.” “It’s a 4-week run like the Palladium, right?” “Yah, mm-hm. If we have a good turnout, I might extend it. I go to New York soon to start production. I’ve been working on it it with Kay and Roger and Hugh Martin.” “Here ya go, Junie, Judes…” Peter said as he went around and handed each of them a small glass cup with liqueur that filled the cup just enough to be a double shot. Junie took the cup but didn’t drink, “That’s a hellava team, sweetie. Like Metro again, but without the slave drivers.” Judy giggled and took her cup, “Exactly. I’m excited to open the theater back up, but I just hope I have enough stamina for the two-a-day.”

“Oh, you’ll be just great.” “Alright, what do we toast to,” Lauren asked. Judy sniffed the drink. She rarely did shots, but when she did, she liked to know exactly what she was taking. She sniffed a second time when she couldn’t recognize the smell, “Alright, what is this?” They ignored her and Lauren spoke up, “Cheers to friends and beer, love and tears and legs behind your ears!” “To all of those who wish us well,” Gene started and Peter chimed in with him, “And the rest can go to hell!” Richie then continued, “And may all your ups and downs be between the sheets.” All of them touched the bar surface with the bottom of their glass before taking the shot, some of them making a funny face including June and Judy. “Oh, what the hell was that,” she asked. “Cognac and a hint of ginger ale.”

“I’ll never be doing that again,” she said wiping a drop away from the corner of her mouth and handed Gene her empty glass.

After some more drinks, a lot more drinks, they were all just hanging out downstairs when Frank chimed up.

“Alright, well, gang, it’s only ten, what do you all want to do now to keep things interesting?”

“Strip poker,” a tipsy Peter chimed.

But everyone immediately responded as if he had mentioned in a million times,“Noooo.” “Truth or dare,” June asked.

“Can’t go wrong with Truth or Dare,” Lauren said blowing smoke from her long cigarette holder.

“Alright, Truth or Dare it is,” Frank said and they all sat down.

“Honey, you thought of it, you go first,” Rich said patting her leg.

"Ok, we'll go clockwise," June said and looked at Judy next to her, "Truth or Dare, ma'am?"

"Dare," she replied confidently.

They all "oo'd" not expecting that from her. Gene's eyes opened wide and he smiled.

"Alright, do something right now that will surprise the heck out of your man."

Judy laughed, "He's known me so long I'm not sure there's much that would surprise him."

"Oh, yes," he laughed, "Yes, there is."

Judy looked at him and thought a moment before pushing on his knee to stand up, "I got it. I'll be right back."

They watched as she disappeared up the stairs.

"Bet she don't come back," Frank chimed in.

"No, she's got something up her sleeve," Richie said.

"I'm actually really curious what she's doing," Gene said his eyes glued to the stairs waiting for her.

She could be quite bawdy but she was not one to do something actually naughty in public - talk about naughty, yes, do it, no. Not a minute later, Judy came down the stairs. Without hesitation, she immediately walked to Gene and placed something in his hand before sitting back down next to him. He looked at it and it was the lighter she had given him that she "lost" outside.

Gene chuckled and just slyly looked at her. She giggled and he reached over giving her a peck on the lips.

"What is that?" Peter asked.

"My favorite lighter," Gene said chipper and placed is in his pocket.

"Why is that such a surprise," June asked.

"It's a private thing between us. Honey, your turn, ask away," Gene said.

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

“Alright, mmmm…” she trailed off thinking and a light bulb went off, “Oh, I have one. I’ve actually always wanted to know but never asked you. Who is your biggest celebrity crush or someone you’d love to be with if we weren’t together.”

“Your one-time pass, Gene,” Frank said cutting to the chase.

“Gene never has one-time anything,” Rich said.

“Oh, Oh, ho ho,” Judy sarcastically laughed.

“There’s been one or two,” Gene said before Judy did, embarrassed. “I mean, I am a dancer so I have to say Ginger Rogers. The moves on that woman, and the pair of legs on that broad. Everyone knows I’m a leg man,” he said pointing his thumb at Judy and purposefully lifting his eyebrows like Groucho Marx.

“Ginge, doesn’t have Jack anymore, Gene. There’s your free card,” Lauren said.

“But he still has Judy,” Judy sang before taking a sip of her wine.

“It wouldn’t mean anything. It’s just a crush-fuck,” Lauren went on.

“Yeah, besides you jumped into the sac with everyone you ever had a crush on, Judes,” Frank said knowing how to push her buttons.

Just as Frank said that, Gene had taken a sip of his Bourbon but spit it back in his glass in shock. He then looked at Judy with his fist up to him mouth trying not to crack up for her benefit.

Judy calmly tapped the ash buds off her cigarette into the ashtray as she replied, “Not everyone, darling.”

Frank, sarcastically placed his hands on his chest, and acting surprised mouthed, “Me?”

“I wasn’t about to be a notch on that belt.”

Everyone laughed, including June who rubbed her friend’s back, “Good girl.”

Judy and Frank finally broke out in giggles at their playful banter.

“Alright, I guess it’s my turn,” Gene said turning to his buddy, “Truth or Dare, my man?”

“Dare.”

“Oo, dare, ok, let’s see…” Gene thought, “I dare you to genuinely propose to someone in this room right now.”

Frank nodded towards Lauren and June, “Well, you’re both already married…” he pointed at Gene, “You’ve got a dick,” he pointed at Peter, “You’ve got a dick,” he then pointed at Rich, “You are a dick...” he then immediately jumped up and plopped between Gene and Judy placing his arm around her, “Gene, old pal, do we have your blessing, Sir?”

Gene shrugged his shoulders, “That's between the two of you, not me.” Judy laughed, “No!" “It's up to her, not me,” Gene repeated. “Well, I said no,” Judy repeated herself. Peter chimed in, “Francis, you've got to get down on one knee the right way, whattaya doin’,” 

“I have bad knees. Judy, darling, can I see your hand?”

Judy looked at him cautiously, but with a smile, and hesitated until he wiggled his fingers wanting her hand. Then she gave it to him. He held it lovingly and caressed her skin with his thumb.

“Despite what rumors have been said in the past, we've never been romantically involved, but we are best friends and I love you dearly. I think it's time to develop a companionship into old age. I would like to ask you…”

“Oh, no,” Judy said, “Nope.”

June spoke up, “Frank, you've got to get on one knee.”

“Judy, will you…”

“No,” she said sternly.

“Fix me another drink?”

Judy laughed and got up grabbing his empty glass, “I'll fix you all the cocktails you want as long as you aren't proposing.”

“Oh, you would've said yes,” Lauren said.

Rich nodded, “I think she's more upset that he didn't ask!”

Gene agreed, “I think so, too.”

As Judy handed Frank another cocktail he looked at Rich, “You ready? Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Let’s spice things up. You’ve been around a while. Have you ever caught a famous person doing the dirty in a public place and who was it?”

Rich nodded and smiled cheesy, “I have and they’re in this room.”

They all looked at one another but soon all eyes landed on Judy and Gene. When the couple realized they were who Rich was talking about they both looked surprised.

“You are such a fibber,” Judy shrieked, “You have not.”

“Oh, yes.”

“When,” Gene asked.

“The after-party for Summer Stock. My car was parked next to Gene’s in the private parking lot and when I went out there, you two were rollin’ around in the backseat like a couple of horny teenagers. It was dark, but it was totally you two.”

“We were just fooling around,” Gene said as Judy turned red.

“Oh, please, you two were totally humpin.”

“I honestly, don’t remember, I had so much to drink that night.”

“Gene doesn’t suffer from whiskey dick,” Lauren said.

“And how would you know,” Judy asked giggling.

“You told me!”

They all died of laughter.

“Did we,” Gene genuinely asked her.

“Probably,” she said and changed the subject, “Richie, your turn.” 

“Alright, Betty, Truth or Dare?”

“Let’s stick to truth.”

“Then let’s stick to keepin’ it dirty. Tell us a dirty little secret.”

Lauren thought a good moment before speaking up casually, “Van Johnson and I had a one night stand once.”

“Oh, I knew that,” Peter said taking a sip of his drink.

Judy and Gene turned to each other mouths both wide in complete shock as Van had been very good friends with them for years and he was notorious for spilling the beans about every nook and cranny in his life. 

“When?!” June asked.

“You’re putting us on,” Gene said seriously.

“What about Evie and Humphrey?” Judy asked almost appalled as those two were the loves of their lives.

“Oh, please, this was a one-time thing before either of us were married.”

“Does Bogie know,” Frank asked.

“Yah. I don’t know about Evie. Don’t you go around with that either, Sinatra. Alright, Junie, Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

“Who in this room would you want to see naked the most? I actually want to know this one.”

June pointed to Peter with a bashful smile. 

“I get double question,” Lauren made up, “Peter, I dare you to get in your birthday suit right now.”

A drunk Peter stood up and immediately took off his shirt revealing his surfer body, which he did often as a hobby. Everyone cheered and laughed but when he kicked off his shoes and started on his buckle, they realized he was really going to strip. When he got down to his skivvies, the girls were all shrieking and the men were cheering him on. When he yanked his boxer-briefs down, June and Judy both screamed and looked away. All the while, Lauren smiled and tapped her cigarette butts off. 

Peter jumped onto the couch and started hugging on June who screamed with laughter and tried getting away, nearly climbing onto of Judy in the process. She kept her hand out to block her view and got up.

“Where you going, honey?” Gene asked roaring with laughter.

“Judes, where you going?” Peter asked getting off of June to go after her. “I’m done, I’m done!” 

Peter covered himself and ran towards her. She screamed and bolted up the stairs losing a shoe in the process. 

Shortly after, since it was still early for the night owls, they all gathered outside to the small fire pit in the backyard and sat around in folding chairs as music played over the portable speaker. 

Gene stood at the edge of the lawn, watching the reflection of the moon on the lake in the distance, as he smoked a cigarette as the girls chatted on the other side of the fire pit.

Frank came up next to him and spoke with an sly voice, “I forgot to tell you, guess who I ran into the other day?”

“The last time you asked me that with that kind of tone, it had to do with that girlfriend of Ben Siegel,” Gene gave him a scheming look, “You know I’m not interested in anything to do with the mob.”

“Dalton Trumbo,” Frank said.

“Or that Hollywood Communist bullshit,” he added but remained in conversation since he had known Dalton from around MGM, “Is he out now?”

“Yep. He got out a few months ago.”

“How’s he doin’?”

“Happy to be back with Cleo and his kids.”

“I bet.”

“But he’s Blacklisted so who knows what he’s gonna do. Probably get into some B-movie studio if he remains in the business.”

“Too bad,” Gene said sincerely, “He’s damn good writer.”

An eruption of laughter from the three women got their attention and they turned around. Gene smiled when he saw Judy cracking up holding onto June’s hand as Betty was practically falling out of her chair.

“They’re a bunch of crazy gals,” Frank chuckled, “I’m glad you came. Betty said Judy might have to do some convincing.”

“It took me a moment to consider it. We’ve both been tired as hell from work and traveling.”

“Her European tour was a smash, I hear.”

“It was, man. She worked her ass off.”

“I wish I could have seen it, but I’m going to be there at the Palace for sure.”

“I’ve seen her work on camera, in the recording booth, on radio programs, but I have never witnessed her the way she was on stage. She’s got this magnetic hold on an audience. All she has to do is stand there and talk and they’re eating out the palm of her hands.”

“She’s like that when she performs live at Ciro’s or some other club.”

“Yeah, but this is different. A concert career was definitely the way to go after MGM booted her out. I thought she was at home doing what she was doing, but no. She really is her true self on stage.”

“She’s a vaudeville kid, it’s in her blood.”

“Yep.”

“Did everything run smoothly?”

“There were some hiccups, but with that one, things aren’t always going to run smoothly. That’s just Judy.”

“What, did you fly back and forth?”

“Yeah. I was there for her opening night at the Palladium and then her closing night, then flew over to Scotland with her to help her get settled in but left after her first night there. When her tour was over, she met up with me in France for a rest when I was finishing work on American in Paris. Liza was there with Vince so we all had a reunion.”

“What are you doing after this?”

“Singing in the Rain.”

“I heard about that. With Don.”

“Yeah, and this new girl Debbie Reynolds.”

“I met her, she’s a sweetie pie.”

“Green,” Gene said as he knew he was about to spend the whole movie teaching someone who wasn’t a dancer.

“So, are you going to be flying back and forth from New York then during this Palace run?”

“Unfortunately, but I’ll be there the first week. All the old gang is involved in preparation for it.”

“That place has become run down, I hope they’re renovating the hell out of it.”

“They are. It’s getting a whole makeover. Sol said it’s going to be ‘elegant as fuck’.”

“Whoever thought about putting Judy back on that Vaudeville stage is a genius.” Gene smiled, “Thank you.”

“You did? I thought her agent did.”

“No, he came up with the idea of a concert tour in Europe. When she got back, we both wanted her to continue here in the states. I’m not making this shit up - For Me and My Gal was playing on the Lux Radio Theater one day and I was listening to it and I thought, she should do that. She should really be Jo on stage at the Palace. Then a light bulb went off and I got on the phone right away.”

“You do remember what happens at the end of that movie, once they’re both on stage at the Palace,” Frank said grinning.

Gene chuckled nodding as he took another drag of his cigarette, “I’m planning on it, Buddy.”

Another eruption of laughter came from the girls and this time Judy was standing up, imitating someone, probably from the studio or from vaudeville, that she often did when she told stories. She was very good at storytelling and exaggeration. 

“She seems so much happier since leaving Metro,” Frank quipped. 

“It was a little daunting for her at first. As much as she wanted to be let go, it was all she knew really. She said to me, ‘I’ve been performing since I was  2, I’ve been working since 12, now I’m unemployed for the first time in my life. I don’t know what to do.’ I told her that she hadn’t had time off in like 16 years, to just enjoy it and be with Liza. But she got restless after a while and irritable and started getting depressed again, so I’m glad this concert thing happened. But I tell ya what, stress has been a major thing between us for a while.”

“It’s good you’re here then.”

Gene nodded, “It’s only been a day, but Judy out here, is a different person. I’m starting to feel that way myself.”

“Away from Hollywood, away from the bullshit back home.”

“Exactly. We should do this once a month” Gene said, “Fuck it, once a week.”

Frank laughed, “I think Lawford might frown upon that.”

Suddenly, a piercing scream came from Lauren and she knocked her chair over as she got up and ran.

“What?!” Peter shouted concerned as he came out the back door with a guitar. “Something just bit my ass!”

“Nothing bit your ass,” Frank said walking over.

“Through your shorts,” June asked.

“Let me see,” Rich said but Lauren pushed him away.

“Darling, it was probably just a mosquito,” Judy said trying not to laugh.

“Nope, I’m done. Goodnight ya’ll,” Lauren said waving as she walked towards the house leaving everyone laughing. 

“Nothing is biting my ass,” Frank said as he followed Lauren. 

Peter sat down on a chair, “Wuss’s. Alright, any requests?”

“Know any Ray Noble tune’s,” Richie asked.

“Very Thought of You,” Peter asked.

“The Very Thought of You,” Junie urged on.

On his guitar, by the fire, Peter started playing the 1934 jazz standard. June smiled and rest her chin on her husbands shoulder as her arms were wrapped around his arm. Gene motioned for Judy and she walked over to him. He immediately brought her against him and together they softly swayed to the romantic tune. 

“I love you,” he whispered.

“How much,” she teased.

“I love you more than singing and dancing, I love you more than ping pong and pool, I love you more than Paris…I even love you more than sex.”

Judy let out an amused snort, “That’s contradicting.”

Serious this time, he pulled back to look at her, “I really do love you, more than you know.”

“I know,” she said tracing her finger along his jaw, “I love you, too…but not more than sex.”

Together they laughed and continued swaying. 

The next morning, was a little after 9 and the Lawford house was still and quiet with the sounds of California birds happily chirping outside. In the semi-darkened living room, Gene and Judy were both curled up comfortably on the expensive pull-out couch. Gene was slightly hovered over her, softly applying butterfly kisses along her neck as his wrist moved ever-so-gently between her legs under the covers. Judy seemed asleep, but she was just relaxing to her man’s attention, a titillating alarm clock. Suddenly, they heard a door shut from upstairs and Gene stopped his caresses, rolling away from her so they wouldn’t be caught. “The hounds are waking up,” he said a little disappointed. “Why don’t you join me in the downstairs shower in a minute,” she whispered getting out of the bed and grabbing her robe then walked out with her small toiletries pouch Gene made up the bed, and put the mattress back in the couch, before he head downstairs. The shower was already on when he shut the door behind him. “Did you bring my shampoo, or do I have to use your flowery shit,” he said removing his pajamas. “I forgot, but Pete has some shampoo in here,” she said from the other side of the curtain. Gene examined his face in the mirror and ran his hand along his jaw, “Baby, should I shave or just wait until we get back home?” “Wait until after. I like you with a little 5 o’clock shadow.” “You like a little scruffiness, huh.” “Mm hm. Darling, can you grab my little loofa that’s in my bag?” “Only if I get to do your back,” he teased grabbing it. “I’d be insulted if you didn’t,” she said as he stepped into the shower with her. Shortly after, Lauren went down the stairs in her silk robe as Peter head up, “Morning.” “Morning, doll.” “If you want the bathroom down there, it’s occupied.” “Who’s in there?” “I saw Judy go in there. I think she’s in the shower.” “Oh, good, she won’t mind,” Lauren said as she kept down the stairs. In the bathroom, Gene spoke impatiently behind the curtain, “Come oooonnn.” “I told you, after I shampooooo,” she mimicked but then a few seconds later she started whining, “Honey, stop.” “You have about 1 minute until I start fucking you,” he chuckled. Suddenly she gasped and accidentally hit the shower curtain, “Don’t you dare tickle me,” a few seconds later she broke out in laughter, “Geneee.” “Shhh,” he laughed trying to keep their voices down, “Come here, sweetheart.” The room was silent for a moment when suddenly the door opened. “Judy, are you in here,” Lauren asked popping her head in. “Ah, y-yes,” Judy’s nervous voice answered. “Do you mind if I get ready in here while you shower? Richie’s taking forever. You know how well groomed that man is.” “We do mind,” Gene said peeking his head out from the curtain grinning naughtily. Lauren smiled flirtatiously, “Ooo, whatchu doin’ in there?” “Washing each other’s backs. You wanna join?” “Gene,” Judy shrieked embarrassed. “I’ll have to pass, darling,” Lauren casually commented. “Then get lost, would ya?” “Next time I would advise to lock the door, dear,” she said pushing the lock button in for them and then walked out shutting the door behind her.                As Judy unsteadily grabbed the small bar in the shower, a shampoo bottle fell with a loud bang, but it didn’t startle either of them as they had sex for the first time in almost two weeks. Only the sound of the shower water erratically hitting the shower floor and their heavy breaths echoed throughout the bathroom. Gene couldn’t see her face, but the look of her knuckles turning white as she held onto the bar for dear life, and her body tightening around his cock, was sure signs she was close. They were both maintaining, but struggling, not to be vocal for neither wanted the gang to hear them.

Gene was struggling even more not to explode. Every vein in his body was popping, muscled strained, as he pumped in and out of her in long, hard strokes. He was about to release A LOT of stress. Gene took his hands off her hips and maneuvered he up so her back pressed against his chest. He placed his left on her breast and the other between her legs. The extra stimulation as her climax neared, made her drop her head and softly cry out in desperation. It was only a few more seconds when her body tensed. Gene quickly placed his hand over her mouth muffling her tiny scream as her eyes squeezed shut. He bit back his own pleasurable moans as his orgasm soon exploded into her warmth. He continued, growling from his chest, until they were both completely saturated.                It was around 10:30 when everyone met up in the kitchen all dressed. Peter and June were making brunch for all of them as Lauren made her famous Bloody Marys. The early morning blue sky was now gray as it started raining. Judy and Gene walked in as the first clap of thunder from the distance rolled in which made Gene stop in his tracks.

“Oh, what the hell,” he said seeing it raining.

“My sentiments exactly,” Peter quipped, “I wanted to get right on the fucking boat after we ate.”

“Shush, it will stop,” June said nudging his arm as they continued with the breakfast.

Judy walked over to the counter and switched on the radio as Gene walked over to Lauren, “Your famous Bloody Mary’s.”

“Yes, sir. Would you like one?”

“Not right now, but thanks,” he declined. He and Judy both weren’t drinkers before dinnertime except on special occasions.

“How was your shower,” Lauren smiled.

Gene didn’t answer but he returned the smile. Judy glanced at them over her shoulder turning red but ignored Lauren’s gaze and walked around grabbing a grape from the fruit bowl. “Do you want one, baby, extra vodka,” Lauren asked her. “Yes, please,” She saw Gene’s surprised look, “I’m on vacation.”

Gene put his hands up as if not to argue with the lady.

“Where’s Francis?” Rich asked.

Peter pointed to the sunroom. Rich and Gene both looked into the sunroom and there was Frank, lounging on the couch swing, fast asleep with a newspaper on his chest.

“Should we dare?”

Gene smiled, “We dare.”

The men walked back into the kitchen and Rich picked up a thin slice of pastrami from June’s cutting board. He handed it to Gene to which Gene walked into the sun room quietly. Judy sipped her Bloody Mary but leaned to the side to see what they were up to.

Lauren walked over to the doorway not knowing Frank was asleep, “Frank, do you want a…”

The two men quickly shushed her. She saw Gene standing over him with the pastrami and she placed a hand on her hip giving the a mother’s look. Judy walked in the doorway to watch as well. Gene made a funny face, trying not to laugh, before he smacked the pastrami slice right on Frank’s face before practically hopping away.

Frank opened one eye confused but remained completely still. When he realized there was meat on his face, he shut his eye to go back to sleep. Meanwhile, Rich and Gene were cracking up and Judy was bent over laughing hysterically.

“I’m gonna pee my pants,” she was able to get out.

“What happened,” Junie asked intrigued.

“They threw something on Frank,” Peter answered.

Lauren walked into the sunroom and took the meat off his face, “Do you want a Bloody Mary?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled.

“Would you like me to roll this up and put it on the olive stick?” she smiled.

“You boys love pranking each other,” June giggled as they all started placing plates on the long table off the kitchen.

“Remember MPD,” Gene said.

“What’s MPD,” Lauren asked.

“Metro Prank Day. It was on the Friday before Halloween every year.”

“For the whole studio?”

“Most of us knew about it,” Gene said, “I think it started between Mickey Rooney and Jackie Cooper in 1940, right honey?”

“Ya, mm hm. Went on for 10 years until LB found out after that food fight in the commissary and put an end to it,” she giggled.

“I wish we could’ve seen it,” Gene added.

“I was there. It was nutso. To think a bunch of movie stars having a food fight,” June said recalling it.

“Not just movie stars, but grown ass adults,” Rich added who was also there that day.

“That was the same prank day that Gene put shaving cream in my heels,” Judy retorted with a raised eyebrow.

“He what?” Lauren asked shocked.

“Yeah,” Judy nodded, “We were doing Summer Stock and he put shaving cream in my heels that I was to wear on set.”

“She stepped right into those suckers, too,” Gene said laughing remembering.

“Tell them what I did to you that year.”

“She drew this big, Italian-cook style mustache on me with her eyeliner and big bushy eyebrows when I fell asleep between scenes.” Judy started laughing remembering and he continued, “I walked onto the scene like that until Charlie Walters said, ‘Gene, what the Sam hell is on your face?’”

Gene and Judy both cracked up.

“That prank day, I witnessed a different side of Judy,” Peter said.

Judy thought a moment before gasping, “Oh, when you were going to…”

“Oh, the water,” Gene cut in.

“What happened,” June asked.

“At the end of the day, I was going to throw a bucket of water on Judy and Gene as they were leaving, but she caught me and she was so angry. She called me a motherfucker.” They all laughed. “She practically pushed Gene down and ran away and said, ‘Get the hell away from me motherfucker.’”

“Baby, you’re turning red there,” Gene said Judy tried not to smile.

“Your heels with shaving cream was nothing, Judes,” Peter said, “How about getting chaffed by Phil Silvers?”

“Chaffed,” Lauren asked shocked.

Gene responded excitedly, “Oh, I remember that!”

“My god damn inner thighs were on fire. I had flamin’ thighs.”

Judy started cracking up.

“I have this distinct memory of you walking on the studio lot the next day and you had these big over-sized pants on and you kind of just waddled in like you just got off a horse,” Gene said as they all laughed.

“You were going, ‘Oh, my legs, my legs,’ You had baby powder and lotion…”

Judy nearly spit out her drink laughing, “I remember the sensitive skin lotion he had to moisturize.”

“Did you learn some stuff from that,” Lauren quipped naughty.

They finished setting the table and Frank walked in, “Here it comes.”

“What?”

“Listen.”

They all were quiet a moment when all of a sudden the roof was pounded with a downpour.

Gene groaned with sincere annoyance, “I didn’t come all the way out here to spend my vacation in a monsoon.”

“Like I control the weather,” Peter said.

“There goes your golfing today,” Gene said to Judy as if he wanted to get her as annoyed as he was.

“Oh, stop whining,” she said.

“Someone’s being grumpy,” Junie said.

“I’m surprised you’re so grumpy after your shower session this morning.”

Gene looked at Lauren with wide eyes as Lauren was usually not one to kiss and tell in regards to others.

“Would you shut up,” Judy whispered embarrassed. When Lauren gave her a sorry look Judy giggled, “Jesus.”

Suddenly, they heard the front door shut.

“Expecting someone?”

“No,” Peter said baffled as he left the room.

“Here,” Judy said as she shoved a small, rolled up piece of meat towards Gene’s mouth.

He quickly made a ‘gross’ face and leaned away, “What is it?”

“Here, just take a bite.”

“No,” he said swatting her hand away.

“It’s only prosciutto and feta cheese,” she said.

“I don’t like ham, babe,” Gene said.

“It doesn’t taste like American ham. Here,” Judy said and shoved the bite size piece into his mouth.

“Shh,” Lauren suddenly said.

“What?”

They were quiet and suddenly heard a familiar women’s cackle from the other room getting closer.

“Oh, you’re kidding,” Frank said surprised as he bolted out of the room.

Judy looked at Lauren displeased, “I thought you said she wasn’t coming.”

“He said she wasn’t.”

“Who,” Gene asked.

“Ava,” Judy answered. Then she and Gene shared the same understanding look as they sat down next to each other at the table.

Peter entered the room followed by Frank who had his fiancé, Ava Gardner, on his arm. Everyone gave her a hug and warm greeting except for Gene and Judy who remained seated. As the rest seated, Ava touched Gene’s arm with a friendly smile, “Hey there.”

“Hi,” he said friendly back but didn’t return the smile.

“Hi, Judy.”

Judy forced a bit of a smile ignoring the other woman’s eyes as she purposefully reached for the fruit bowl.

“I’m glad you were able to make it, honey,” Frank said.

“Me, too. I have to be back on Tuesday, but at least I have a few days off. Thought I’d surprise you. What a lovely spread,” she said as they all started eating.

They all started chit-chatting and when there was a lull in the conversation, June spoke up, “Was it raining the whole way?”

“No, but it started to downpour when I got into town. Has it been raining here since you all came?”

“No, just started,” Pete said.

“Hopefully it stops soon so you can join in on the fun,” Rich said.

“I know how tight-knit the group is. I’m grateful to be a part of it. I’m glad you’re all happy to see me,” Ava’s eyes darted to Judy and Gene as they remained to themselves, “Well, all except you...” she looked at Gene then to Judy with a giggle, “And you.”

Ava said it as if to maybe have the couple immediately respond with, ‘No, of course we’re happy to see you,’ but all of a sudden, the air was thick with tension and everyone continued to eat in silence for a moment.  

“So, Judy, how was your concert tour in Europe?”

Judy placed her elbows on the table and rest her chin on her hands, her eyes piercing. When she didn’t answer, Ava repeated the question getting irritated herself. She looked at Gene as if you had to get through him first before Judy, “Gene, how was her concert tour in Europe?”

He wiped his mouth with his napkin, “It was a big success.”

“Why do you care,” Judy tilted her head at the woman inquisitively.

They all looked at Judy surprised at her catty tone.

“Because I’m your friend,” Ava said a little baffled.

“As far as I’m concerned, friends do not betray one another.”

“How on earth have I ‘betrayed’ you? I haven’t even seen you since before you left for London and that was what, February?”

“Here we go,” Peter said leaning towards Lauren, as they were well aware of the situation.

“When we were all out at Mocambo for Elizabeth’s birthday, I specifically asked everyone in our group, including you, to not mention my divorce. And every one, but you and David Selznick, respected that. We had press surrounding us that night. I was being asked nonstop about it and I ignored the subject out of respect for my husband and my daughter. I expected my friends to do the same.”

“I was listening to Dave go on about it. I didn’t say anything,” Ava responded matter-of-factly.

“But you're my friend, as my friend, you’re not supposed to just ‘listen’. You do what everyone else did when they were asked about it: you ignore it. You could have said, ‘Now is not the right time, David.’”

“I am going to listen because he’s also my friend. I am not a rude person to tell him to put a sock in it. What did you want me to do?”

“Frank declined to comment when Louella asked him about us,” Judy said trying to get her point across.

Gene chimed in, “Lauren, when you were at lunch with Hedda, what did you do when she started talking about her divorce?”

“I shut her up real quick,” Lauren said nodding.

“Judy, I was not speaking about it, he was.”

“You allowed it to be talked about and you knew reporters were around us. I’ve not spoken to David since that night when Dorothy Kilgallen came up to me and told me what he was saying. But, he was LB Mayer’s son-in-law so I expect that from him.”

“That was 6 months ago. I’m sorry if I offended you in anyway, but it’s over with now. Your divorce is done, you’re living with Gene, can’t you just forget about it?”

“If you were just anybody, then I would forget about it. I’m still upset about it because you’re planning on marrying one of my best friends which means we’re going to be together a lot. When we were filming Girl, Crazy, people were asking me nearly every day about your split from Mickey and I told them it was none of our business. You weren’t even my friend then, but Mickey was, so I respected your private life.”

“I do appreciate that. But can I say one thing? Why didn't you just say something to the press about your divorce? Maybe then they would've left you alone. They're still writing about how you and Gene broke up the 'finest marriage of MGM'.”

Gene exhaled through his nose and pushed back against the table with his hands trying not to respond. Judy tapped him on the leg as if telling him to just ignore it.

“I told you, I respect my child and I respect Vince. Respect, and pleading the fifth to the press is the right way to get a divorce,” she pointed sternly at Frank, “And you listen up as well mister, do you hear me?”

“Listen up,” he asked as he didn’t want to get involved in the argument between his best girlfriend and his fiancé.  

“You have been going around the columnists bragging about Ava. How do you think Nancy feels?”

“I don’t brag. I own my shit. And Nancy hasn’t been showing me respect.”

“Gee,” she said with her best, sarcastic, actress voice, “I wonder why.”

Gene looked over at her with wide eyes not expecting that from her especially to Frank.

“Judes,” Frank said a little shocked at her behavior.  

Ava leaned forward on her forearms as if challenging Judy, “You’re really sitting there, talking to us about our affair, when you cheated on both of your husband’s with Gene here, and God knows who else…” she trailed off.  

Judy looked at Gene with a serious, but sly expression, who gave her the same look back. The couple never discussed, or explained, their private life in regards to their affair at MGM except with the very few who had known about it since the start which were only Dottie, Kay Thompson and Frank. And to this day, none of the trio had spoken to anyone else about it. Everyone sitting at the table, right now, didn’t even know the entire backstory. They found out like everyone else - when Judy and Gene came out publicly with their relationship in September of 1950 after Judy was fired from MGM and each were legally separated from their spouses.

Judy was about to speak when Gene placed his hand on her leg and squeezed it. He didn't want to make her explain anything and put her vulnerability out there, so he took the bait instead.

“I understand what you’re getting at, Ava, and although some of the circumstances are relevant, there is no comparison.”  

“Oh, really,” she asked sarcastically.

“Really,” he said getting angry, “I never say nothin’ to nobody regarding my personal life, but the fact that you, and everyone else, assumes our relationship is what broke up her marriage to Vince is why I’m gonna say somethin’ now…”

“Gene,” Judy said uncomfortable.

He ignored her, “Now listen up…every one of you fuckers here at this table…”

“Darling,” Judy said embarrassed.

“No, Judy. I’m tired of everyone assuming things. We’re finally free to be together, why not just tell them? These are our friends,” he said and all she could do was just give a willful nod. “Judy and I have heard the rumors, like all of you have heard, but we usually laugh because we don’t give a shit what people think because we know the truth. But you’re our friends and we love you so here’s our truth. We’ve been hearing that people are saying we started an affair during Summer Stock and that’s what broke up Judy’s marriage which is probably the funniest rumor of them all. We actually started going together during our first picture together, almost 10 years ago, when Judy was still married to Rose. Our relationship…you see how I say ‘relationship’ and not ‘affair’,” he said eyeing in on Ava to prove his point, “…was on and off for all those years. Yes, it was extramarital, and yes, we were involved with other lovers throughout that time, but together, we weren’t just ‘fucking’. We were best friends, equals, soul mates. I know I sound like a sap, but it’s true. We fell in-love, but timing was never right, but that’s not relevant. During our last picture, things got very serious between us as I was separated from my wife and Judy was estranged from Vince. Betsy and Vince both knew we were together at that time. Up until then, we had kept it a secret all those years, except for Frank here…”

They all looked at Frank shocked and he smiled, “I’m a good friend, what can I say.”

Gene continued, “Our ‘good ol’ buddy Selznik’ that we’ve talked about said to me that night at Liz’ party, ‘Judy cheated on her first husband with you, her second husband with you, she’ll cheat on you, too.’  I said, ‘How can she cheat on me with me?’”

Judy looked at him surprised, “You never told me that.”

“We’re not proud of what we’ve done during our marriages, and I know Judy often feels guilt-ridden, but we both believe everything happens for a reason. I’ve known this girl since she was eighteen. I’m in it for the long run,” he looked at Ava, “This ain’t no ‘fuck em’ and leave em’ Hollywood story that you think, dear.”

Lauren made a ‘Ooo’ smile as June got Judy’s attention and mouthed ‘marry him’ to her. Judy gave her an appreciative look, but the subject had been all too heavy for a smile.

“There is no comparison with us related to you two,” Judy added calmly.

“Maybe not in that way, but Frank and I fell in-love, too, and let’s face it, I bet everyone of us at this table hasn’t always been monogamous,” Ava added.

Frank chimed in to Judy, “Baby, stop being so protective. I know you mean well, and I adore you for it, but I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself. And I do love her, ya know.”

“I just don’t want to see another one of my good friends get hurt by her again. First Mickey, then Artie, now you.”

“Just so you now, Mickey cheated first, and from what I heard was even porking some chorus girl when I was in the hospital for a appendectomy. And Artie was the biggest fucking bully out there. I don’t think this is really about me and Frank. I think it’s about you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re just jealous Mickey, Frank and Artie all preferred me and Lana over you.” 

Gene’s mouth opened and he immediately took Judy’s arm afraid she might throw her drink in the other woman’s face starting a brawl. Instead, Judy whipped her arm away, and scooted her chair back with a screech, before walking out of the room. Gene sighed heavily before he got up to follow her out.

“What, no retaliation back from Mr. Mayer’s precious Dorothy,” Ava said sarcastically.

Suddenly, Gene turned on his heels and shouted, “Hey!” Some of them jumped, including Ava, who turned to look at him and his eyes were looking straight at her, “Don’t call her that. You have no idea what that girl’s been through.” Without another word, he left the room.

“It’s called ‘having class’, darling,” Lauren said as she lit a cigarette.  

Frank sighed and leaned into Ava, “You know her history with the Artie shit. Did you have to hit so low under the belt?”

“She started attacking me, first. What did you want me to do?”

Frank looked at the others and shrugged having to agree with her, “I mean, she has a point.”

“What shocks me the most is that Judy is not a confrontational person…” Lauren said.

“At all,” Peter added taking another bite of his food.

“At all,” Lauren repeated then continued sincerely, “And she never gets involved in the subject of others’ relationships. So, imagine what she was feeling for her actually speak up the way she did just now.”

“It wasn’t an attack. I think she just felt betrayed by you, as her friend, for not defending her to David with the divorce thing and now she sees you about to marry someone that’s like a brother to her. She wanted to get things off her chest. She’s being protective is all, just like Frank said,” Junie added.

“I can’t believe they been together since My Gal. Do you know how many times I worked with them during that time,” Rich said amused.

“Ava, look,” Lauren said, “Judy may be little, but she’s a feisty, son-of-a-bitch who will not let you forget it. She has two sides…she’s either the funniest, life of the party dame you will ever be with or, what she calls herself, ‘the Black Irish Witch.’”

“One time I said something shitty about Fred Finklehoffe in front of her. She stared at me with this dark look, I nearly pissed myself,” Peter said.

“I can attest to that. She can make you so scared your balls r’ touchin’ the back of your shorts,” Frank said to Peter.

“If you want to be her friend, do not get on her bad side. I would swallow it and just apologize,” Lauren urged.

Gene walked around the house looking for Judy but didn’t find her so he made his way to the back of the house when he heard a small noise coming from another room. “Hun?” “I’m in here,” he heard her voice say and he walked into the office library. Judy was standing facing one of the book shelves, her hands on her elbows as her eyes gazed upon the literature curiously. “You, ok?”

“Yah,” she said and reached for a photo album that caught her eye. Gene sat on the arm of the leather love seat, “Liar.”

Judy looked at him and her face was completely neutral, “I am. I just needed to…remove myself from the situation.”

“Before…” he asked smiling cheekily.

She raised her eye brow warningly, “Before I did something I’d regret.”

“That’s why I grabbed your arm. She ain’t worth it.”

“I know. It doesn’t matter anymore. I just needed a moment,” she said sitting down next to him with the photo album labeled ‘MGM’ in her lap.

“What she said to you was low. She had some hellava nerve.”

Judy let out a long sigh and opened the album, “Let’s just drop it.”

“Well, at least you were able to say everything you’ve been thinking’.”

“I prefer not to have conversations like that.”

“I know you don’t, baby, but doesn’t it feel a little better to get it off your chest?”

“Does it feel better after telling everyone our whole story,” she said back in a bit of a bitchy tone.

“Well, one, it was the synopsis version. The actual details are no one’s business. And two, yes, it does feel better. I know we’re private about it, but like I said, I was sick of everyone assuming. Doesn’t it make you feel better that our best friends know the truth instead of them also assuming from what they hear around the lot?”

Judy had to agree as she looked at the photographs, “Yes. All of this just makes me uncomfortable.”

“Me, too,” he said reaching over and leaving a kiss on top her head.

“Oh my gosh, darling, look,” Judy giggled and pointed to a photo of them.

It was them on the Easter Parade set. He was standing with his crutches watching as Judy was filming her ‘Mr. Monotony’ scene.

“That’s always gonna be my one regret,” he said shaking his head, “Breaking that damn ankle and not working on that picture.”

“Me, too, but at least you helped get the next best thing for me,” she said pinching his cheek referring to Fred Astaire coming out of retirement to work with her.

“I’m still a little miffed they cut this scene. I really liked it.”

“It was a little sexy.”

“Probably why they cut it,” she joked.

“If that’s true, they should’ve just thrown away Pirate, hm?”

“Well, they did get rid of that Voodoo number,” she quipped.

“Now, that was sexy,” he said his eyebrows rising intrigued, “I had to rub one out after that scene.”

“Gene,” she laughed shocked.

They commented on other photos of their Metro peers when coming up on another one of them. It was Gene and Judy laughing as he gave her a piggy back ride down the studio lot in their ‘Ballin’ the Jack’ costumes from their first picture. Judy placed a finger on it and they were both quiet a moment sharing silent memories during that time.

“Man, I didn’t know shit back then,” he murmured.

Judy leaned into Gene in awe, “Look at them.”

“We were so cute.”

“I remember that day,” she said softly.

“So do I. I remember every single day during that time,” he said with a bittersweet tone but then his expression changed a bit naughty, “We had a lot of fun.”

Judy giggled, “Yes, we did.”

They leaned in for a kiss and he replied, “Seeing this photograph of us, no one would ever know what we were going through behind the scenes…how unhappy we were in our personal lives.”

“The only time I actually really enjoyed coming to the studio was when I knew I would be working with you.”

“That’s why I agreed to Summer Stock, sweetheart,” he said patting her leg.

“I’m so grateful you were part of my last movie there,” she said a little emotional.

“Yep, and a successful one at that. But now, onward and upward, baby. Your Europe tour was a hit but your Palace run is gonna lead to a whole other career for you.”

“You really think so?”

“I do..”

“I just want it to be fucking fantastic,” she said with great efficacy.

“It’s gonna be huge, you can bet on it.”

“I’m still so damn nervous, Gene.”

“You have rehearsals coming up soon. And you have the best of the best putting it together with you. You’ll be just fine. Plus, I’ll be there in the wings, opening night, so there’s nothing to be nervous about.”

“You promise,” she said grabbing his hand. 

“I promise.”

“No matter what?”

“No matter what. I never want to let you down, Judy.”

She smiled before engulfing him in a hug.

That afternoon, the storm cleared and it was nothing but sunshine and blue sky with a perfect Summer temp in the upper 80’s. The whole clan piled onto Lawford’s large speed boat in their sunbathing clothes and swim wear.  

Peter drove the boat around Lake Camille, but after 20 minutes, stopped in a good area so they could float. Surprisingly, the lake wasn’t busy. Just a few other boats were scattered around.

In the back of the boat, Judy, in a plunging, black one-piece suit, with a skirt wrapped around her waist, and Lauren, in a white, high-waisted bikini, were sunbathing against the back cushions in relaxing in silence as the radio played some slow jazz tunes.

Lauren looked over at Judy and lowered her sunglasses, “What’s with this music?”

“I was just going to say that. We’re on a boat having fun and he’s playing some sad music.”

“Yeah, why is he playing sad shit? I’ll go tell him to change it. He’s playing some mellow stuff. We need to get boppin’,” Lauren said as she got up.

Lauren passed Ava who came walking up with a daiquiri in her hand. Judy pretended not to pay attention as Ava cautiously sat next to her. They were both silent, but Judy could sense the other woman wanted to talk so she looked over at her. When she did, Ava gently smiled. “I’m sorry.”

Judy took off her sunglasses and placed them on top her hair that was pulled into a French twist, “I’m not usually like that. I hope you understand why I confronted you about it.”

“I do sympathize, but I want you to know, I never did anything purposefully to hurt you.”

“Except for the comment about the boys.”

“That I am truly sorry for. It was beneath me. I was just retaliating because I felt like I was being attacked.”

“I never, ever want anyone to feel attacked by me, because I know what it feels like, so for that I’m also truly sorry. All of it is just a very sensitive subject.”

“I do know you were just being protective of Frank, too. But believe me, Judy, I really do love him. And he loves me.”

Judy softly smiled, “Who am I to get in the way of love then.”

“I know we won’t always see eye-to-eye, but can we just agree to disagree?” “Of course,” Judy said sincerely.

Frank got Ava’s attention and she excused herself but Junie came bouncing over to Judy.

“Why are you over here all by yourself?”

“Just relaxing. I’ll join the party soon.”

All of a sudden, a small paper plane fell onto Judy’s lap startling her a second. “What the heck,” Junie said.

Both the ladies looked up, and on the small second tier of the boat where the captain seat was, they saw Gene, clad only in his swim trunk and sunglasses. He was looking up whistling trying to be inconspicuous.

“Dang, he’s got good aim.”

“He does have great coordination. He’s great at all sports. My paper plane would’ve landed in the water.”

Judy looked at it, and it said ‘open me’ on the wing. She opened it and it simply said 'I love you' in Gene’s unmistakable handwriting. June leaned over to look and immediately made an ‘awe’ face.

Judy smiled and fold the paper back up before looking back at up at him. This time he was looking at her smiling. She gave an air smooch to him and he winked before turning back to Pete. The music suddenly changed to more of an upbeat and Lauren gave Judy a thumbs up.

“He is just so sweet,” June commented.

“He is a darling.”

“Handsome,” she said raising her eyebrows provocatively.

“He’s dreamy,” Judy agreed, “After knowing him for 10 years, I still get butterflies when he looks at me a certain way. And I can still get emotional when he does cute things like that. I just hope Liza finds someone like that. How did I get so lucky, you know?”

“That’s how I feel about Richie. We all have to go through the trial and error of frogs, before the right Prince Charming, honey.”

“Funny…I always think they’re Prince Charming in the beginning.”

“We all do. But this one is it, isn’t it?”

Judy nodded, “Yes.”

“And now you both don’t have to sneak around. I think it’s absolutely delicious that you two have been a thing all this time. Was it the dancing that attracted you to him? ‘Cause let me tell you – watching him dance on screen is a major turn on.”

Judy laughed, “You’re terrible. No, it was his smile..and his arms.” Both ladies laughed.

“And now you have the whole package.”

“I know. He takes care of me. And more important, he’s a nice fella. He brings me my tea when I wake up, when he’s at work he’ll call me and make sure I’m okay. He helps me with my career. He does anything for me.”

“He’s head over heels for you, too."

“You think that, really?” Judy asked honestly.

“Of course. You can just see it the way he looks at you. Do you not see that?”

“I’m afraid I suffer from a bit of self-doubt, darling.

A lot of people knew this about Judy, especially June, who then took Judy's hand in hers, "Judy, the way I see it – look how long it took for you two to finally be together. Knowing Gene as I do, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have bought a house with you if you if he weren’t 100% sure of your relationship. Look how long it took him finally get out of his unhappy marriage. He's a very thorough person."

“That’s true. He never makes life decisions on a whim.”

“You better marry him.”

“Oh, I plan to. But not for a little while.”

“Have you talked about it?”

“Not really. It’s something we know will happen but we never officially discussed it.”

“Do you think he will propose soon?”

“Maybe. Maybe when his next picture is over and I’m done with Palace. I know he’d want to get married once we can have some time off.” Judy’s eyes darted up where Gene was, “But I'd marry him right now on the spot if there was a judge and marriage license."

A few hours later, after they came back to shore, everyone went for a swim before retreating back to the house and lolled around. The sun was setting as everyone remained outside but Judy and Lauren hung out inside  listening to music in the living room fresh-faced, clad already in their pajamas. Both were enjoying a glass of wine. The radio started playing Doris Day’s ‘Tea for Two’. 

“Oh, I loved this movie,” Judy quipped. 

“She is probably the most genuine girl out there. Have you met her?” 

Judy nodded, “I seen her around town, but I was able to officially meet her a few years ago at a premiere of a film she made with my friend Jack Carson.”

“Oh, you know, Jack?”

“We worked the Vaudeville circuit together when we were kids.”

Gene walked in and looked a little surprised seeing the ladies ready for bed, “Are we having a slumber party?”

“We’re pooped out from the sun,” Lauren said.

“Wanted to get comfy,” Judy added.

Peter walked into the room, inhaling from a joint, then casually handed it to Lauren who took a hit. She then handed it towards Judy.

“The last time I had marijuana was when I was still married to Dave and I fell straight on my face.” 

Lauren handed it to Gene who took a hit. When Judy saw this, she thought, ‘What the hell.’ It might relax her. And she ushered Gene over. The four sat around for a little bit, chatting and passing it around, listening to music. Alright folks, now here’s a an oldie but a goodie by America’s past-time sweethearts Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland. The song was requested by little Shirley Mae as it’s her 10th birthday today. Happy Birthday, Shirley and enjoy your song.

Suddenly, Judy and Mickey’s ‘Good Mornin’’ started and everyone smiled as they looked at Judy. They assumed she would tell them to change the channel but instead she got up and started singing with her younger self. Gene laughed knowing it was the weed. Frank walked into the room and immediately joined in singing Mickey’s part. They put on a show as the others watched delighted. 

When it was over, Judy laughed and hugged her friend, “That was fun.”

“Where is everyone else,” Gene asked.

“They went for a walk,” Frank replied. 

As the three started a conversation, Judy mindlessly walked over by the piano in the corner and ran her finger over a few keys as if concentrating on which to play. She hummed and then played a few keys as if trying to get it right. 

“More than you…” she sang before humming it again and played some keys.

Lauren noticed and walked over, “What’re you trying to play.”

“More Than You Know. Song’s been in my head.”

“I know it. How about this? I’ll play it, you sing it,” Lauren said sitting down on the bench.

“Alright,��� Judy said and sat down next to Lauren.

Lauren started playing and then Judy started singing the intro verse of the song, very softly, as if it were background music in a restaurant with everyone else chatting. But quickly the men all came to a hush as they watched.  

More than you know More than you know Man of my heart I love you so Lately, I find You’re on my mind More than you know…

Gene watched her intently as her voice, always seductive but sweet, hummed around the room straight into his soul. Her bare face looked fresh, her skin had a glow from the sun and her hair was forming curls still damp from the water. Usually she sang around the piano like this at parties, looking like the starlet she was, with her black lashes, red lips and party dress. That was Judy Garland. Right now, she was Frances Gumm.

“I’m going to marry that girl,” Gene softly said.

Frank didn’t know if Gene had murmured that to him, or to himself, but he replied, “She needs someone like you.”

Judy’s eyes looked into her love’s, a hint of a smile on her lips as she sang the lyrics. Gene looked back, a twinkle in his eye.

The next morning, Judy stood on the back porch with a cup of tea in her hands, her long, black, silk robe blowing in the breeze. Everyone was still asleep and the sun was bright orange rising along up in the dawn sky, along the lake front. The early morning birds were chirping and the water was still. It was all so peaceful, it felt like Judy’s mind, at the moment, didn’t have one ounce of anxiety, which is what occasionally plagued her throughout the day.

“What are you doing up?”

Judy turned as Gene stood in the doorway. He still wore his gray t-shirt, navy pajama pants and his hair was messy.

“I woke up and couldn’t fall back to sleep.”

Gene walked out and gave her a peck on the lips, “Good morning.”

“Morning.”

He rubbed her back as he looked at the scenery before him.

“Isn’t it pretty?”

“It’s very nice.”

He looked over watching as her face was probably the most relaxed he had seen it in a long time and he bit his bottom lip with an idea.

“Come walk with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just down there.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” she hesitated and giggled, “Honey, it’s so early and I don’t feel like dressing yet.”

“We don’t have to dress. It’s just a morning walk on the beach. No one’s out here. Here, let me take that, I’ll be right back. Stay there.”

She watched a little surprised as Gene darted inside to put her cup of tea in the kitchen and was gone not 30 seconds before he popped back out and took her hand. Together, they walked down the steps and to the beach just below the house. Barefoot, they held hands and walked slowly along the front in silence for a minute just enjoying the calm of the early morning and of each other.

“See, isn’t this nice.”

“Yes,” she said laying her head on his shoulder a moment, “Although I feel silly walking out here in our pajamas.”

“You love the spontaneity.”

“I do,” she giggled.

As they walked some more, Gene released her hand, but kept a hand on her back for a little as they walked. Subtly, he took his hand off her back and slowed his steps as she continued walking not noticing that he stopped. “Darling, do you think one day we could get a vacation spot out here?” When she didn’t get a response, and noticed he wasn’t next to her anymore, she furrowed her eye brows, “Gene?”

Judy turned around and let out a gasp. She placed her hands over her mouth as Gene was six steps behind her, on his knee, with a velvet ring box in his hand.

When the first initial shock of seeing him faded away, Judy laughed delighted, “What?!”

Gene smiled as she rushed up to him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and spoke almost with a hush tone, “What are you doing?”

His smile faded and he spoke with a very loving but serious tone, “Judy…”

Judy let out a whimpered cry as she placed her hands back on her mouth. She looked away a moment, shaking her head, in disbelief that it was finally happening.

“Sweetheart, come here,” he said reaching for her hand.

She gave her hand to him and she fell to her knees in font of him to be equal, “You’re crazy,” she laughed through her tears. Gene laughed with her and she continued, “Where did you get that?”

She looked at the closed ring box. He head barely left her sight for a moment since they’d been here. She had so many questions.

“I’ve had it for a while. Do you want to see it?” She nodded but he continued, “I have to say something first,” he took both her hands in his and they sank down sitting on the back of their heels in the sand, “I know that you’ve been expecting this since we moved in together. And I know you wanted to marry me after you divorced David. At that time, I couldn’t. You understand why, don’t you?”

Judy gave one simple nod, knowing he wasn’t ready to leave his wife and daughter for their fresh, extramarital relationship back then.

“So, I know you’re going to say ‘yes’. But, I need you to know this…” he saw her take a breath in as her eyes continued welling up with tears and he tried to swallow his one, “You always tell people that I’m different because ever since we met, I’ve seen you as a person, as an equal. And that’s 100% true. And I know you hate it when people only see you as a voice, or as a movie star or a celebrity. But, marrying you means that I’m also marrying that voice, that movie star and that celebrity. I’m marrying Frances Gumm and Judy Garland. I want both of us to understand that.”

“Like Eugene Curran and Gene Kelly,” Judy said joking, trying to make light of the situation which she often did when things got a little too heavy even if it was a good situation.

“Exactly.”

“Did you plan this?”

“Not at all, sweetheart. I was going to propose on the opening of The Palladium, but everything was amazing and just too much. I didn’t want to take away from what you were experiencing then. And I wanted to wait until the Palace, but…I don’t know. It just seems like the right time. I can’t wait.”

Judy giggled and wiped a tear away, “It’s very romantic.”

He became serious again, “I love you, Judy. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want us to help each other and grow together and get through whatever life throws at us, together. You’re it for me, baby. You have been for a long time. I just…” he paused and looked down clenching his jaw getting emotional.

Judy tapped him under the chin, “You’re an honest man, I know that. You had a wife and new baby. Because of your decision to stay with your family, I ended up having Liza. Glass half full, darling.”

“I know we both haven’t had a good track record in the relationship department, but I think now we’ve finally got it right….” he said sincerely and suddenly Judy got a split image of her father in her mind and she started crying knowing he was right, this marriage would be it for them.

“Judy…” Gene opened the ring box showing a beautiful, vintage large diamond ring and she laughed and gently pushed on his arm still not believing this was happening.

“This is crazy…” she interrupted.

“Will you marry me?”

She smiled and nodded, more tears falling as he placed the ring on her left hand. They kissed passionately before she jumped in his arms excited nearly toppling over into the sand.

“WHAT’S GOING ON?!”

They looked up and on the porch saw June standing there confused. Judy stood up and lifted her left hand yelling, “WE’RE GETTING MARRIED!”

June jumped and “WOOOO!!!!” before she ran inside to wake up and tell everyone. Gene and Judy both laughed. Gene pulled her back to him and cradled her face in his hand.

“I love you, more than you know.”

[lewdladylily]

You've mentioned this kink club you frequent a few times, what's the place like generally? Like what kinda stuff do they have going on in a place like that?

There are about 4 within reasonable driving distance of where I live (salt lake city, Utah) but I have only gone to two of them due to time and distance constraints. Though you do get kink nights at a couple local dance clubs, I know Area 51 (local dance club) does them here and there, and they are generally kink friendly any time. The local drag queens really like Area 51.

Anyway, the kink clubs are community run and non commercial. The two I am familiar with are actually built in a residential area - from the outside it just looks like someone’s house, you would never know unless you knew. Someone owns the place and it is technically their home, but I don’t know who. They don’t like to let people know who they are and we all respect their privacy. My understanding is not even the neighbors know. As a side note, the cops all know where these clubs are, it isn’t a problem.

My personal favorite was founded around 60 years ago by the gay leather community but it’s always been open to the larger kink community, we all want somewhere to meet and do our thing so we support each other. Also there is a lot of cross over between different groups.

The one I go to most often has a large living room area that has been converted into a dance floor, which acts as the main play area, area for meetings and classes, and occasionally as an actual dance floor when events call for it. There is a sound system, dance club style lighting, padded benches along the walls, and lots of bondage furniture (also scattered around the rest of the clubhouse). There are several other rooms, 3 additional smaller play rooms, a rest area, a kitchen area (Free water bottles all the time, snacks most nights, as well as a soda machine).

Outside of the main clubhouse they built a small bar, maybe 15 feet by 30. You can smoke there, some nights they serve drinks, tables, stools, etc. You get it. It is a good hangout place, cozy and comfortable feel. I’ve spent a lot of hours there just chatting with people.

They have a consensual non consent area set up in the back half of the bar. The idea is that there is a hazard line on the floor that indicates a “danger” area, as well as a stop light they got somewhere. If it is green, all normal rules apply. If it is red then past the line cnc rules are in place - if you are past the line then it is an invitation for someone to come and do what they want with you without asking permission first (unless you safe word, safe words are always in effect). Generally people are not confident enough to do anything though, unless they already know you. I’ve never had the nerve to try it myself on either side. There is this one lady that is a really good belly dancer that likes to go hang out and dance in the CNC area. I’ve never been around for anyone doing more than groping her, but I understand sometimes people will tie her up, maybe use a vibrator on her.

There are also two chairs with built in restraints set up in the CNC area if that is your thing. 

There is also a pretty good size patio area. Generally we just sit and chat on warm evenings out there. It is technically open for scenes, and that does happen sometimes. I once saw a girl and her dominant doing a water torture scene, basically she was tied up arms behind her back, on her knees in front of a plastic tub filled with water. Her dominant shoved her head under the water, holding her in place while she tried to resist and break free. Pulled up and allowed to breathe before she was unexpectedly pushed back under. Very hot to watch.

For the more general things we get up to there, generally things are set up as events that you can attend. The entry fee was $15 last time I checked, just to cover minimal expenses. You can also donate to improve the clubhouse. It gets a good amount of donations, everyone wants a good place to hang out, but no one is getting any real amount of money out of it. All the donations go into things like buying furniture or cleaning supplies. All events are invitation only, basically any member of the clubhouse can sponsor someone for their first event, after that they have a standing invitation to any open event.

The events themselves vary greatly. The most popular events are the general play parties, where people just show up, hang out, meet people, and sometimes do some play. It is not uncommon at all for people to come without any intention of sexual play at all, it is a very comfortable, queer friendly environment. We’re all weirdos here, no one is going to judge you for whatever you do.

Generally speaking at any given time someone will be doing something though. All scenes and play being done in the clubhouse is open for anyone to watch. So if some hot girl is being tied up, or two attractive people are having sex, or if there is just a really sexy woman half naked across the room, you are free to watch the show and it is not considered impolite to stare.

At any given party you are going to see a wide variety of people. Lots of people in street clothes hanging out, chatting, and watching whatever is going on. You’ll see several people in anything they find sexy such as lingerie, corsets, formal wear, or even just straight up naked. I have seen two submissive friends come handcuffed together and only in panties. One of my friends likes to wear maid outfits with cat ears and a tail. All that good stuff. You’ll see people on leashes or other obvious signs of dominant/submissive dynamics too.

The events are 18+, and I’ve seen people in their 70s there. Most people are 25+. You’ll also find a wide variety of body types, including fat or otherwise not traditionally attractive people, trans people, you name it. That isn’t a real barrier to joining in on the fun or finding partners.

For an example of a more exclusive event, there is a gender queer play group that used to meet regularly, I am not sure if they still do. Open for trans people and cross dressers plus established allies. Strictly invitation only because this can be an extremely frightening thing for people.

I was a regular of the gender queer group, it was an easy place for me to start as a trans women. I felt more comfortable there than at a general play party until I got my bearings in the community, and I was friends with all the cross dressers by that point. Generally the idea was we would get together to hang out and chat, give all the cross dressers a night to dress up, some of the more experienced CDs would put on a workshop for how to do makeup. That sort of thing. These were more casual parties without much heavy play. You wont find people fucking in the basement, but you might see a light spanking scene.

They also do a weekly class on some kink subject. Someone in the community puts together a presentation on something they like in kink - for example, pony play, or dollification, or leather working - and you can come learn about it. I went to a leather class once where the presenter showed off these black leather angel wings she made, they were stunning.

These classes are strictly no play, with the exception of any demonstrations the presenter does, and the donation drive, in which a female volunteer brings around a donation box (it is actually a wooden duck, a lighthearted tradition that I don’t know the origin of) while stripped down to her panties in order to “encourage” donations. It’s a tongue in cheek tradition, we are all perverts so we might as well have some perverted fun and let an exhibitionist whore herself around a bit. No one is expected to donate, but it is encouraged.

The thing that might not get across easily is that this is a very comfortable atmosphere and basically one of the safest places you could go. Everything is built around safety and consent, and everyone is looking out for everyone else. I’ve done intense bdsm scenes before that left me so fucked up that I couldn’t even walk on my own. People helped me to the couch so I could rest, got me a blanket, and then got me a sealed water bottle so I could rehydrate and checked in on me regularly until I was able to properly take care of myself. I felt completely safe the entire time. I’ve watched over people like this myself before. It is just what you do.

If I had to pick a personal favorite thing, it would have to be the cages.

The clubhouse has a large standup cage, usually one occupant, but you can fairly comfortably fit two. Often someone gets locked in there and basically put on display. One time a cute girl was locked in the standing cage, her arms bound to the top of the cage, with it sitting in the middle of the room. People were encouraged to reach in and grope and touch her as they passed. I’ve locked people in there before, including heavy bondage to the bars of the cage while I groped and teased them with a vibrator. That was a ton of fun.

There is also a horizontal, long cage big enough for one person, or if you are willing to get very close and personal two people. It is comfortable enough for long periods of time. You often see a submissive or two locked in that cage, sometimes left there while their dominant goes off and plays with someone else. I met one of my good friends while she was locked in that cage. It has a padded top so it doubles as a bench for an added level of humiliation.

[ryqoshay]

How to Handle a Nico - Dinner at the Nishikino’s

Primary Pairing: NicoMaki Words: ~4.1k Rating: K Time Frame: Late in Maki’s 1st year and Nico’s 3rd year in college. Story Arc: Stand Alone

Author’s Note: This chapter was assembled from a patchwork of about a dozen instances I wanted to include and thus wrote each separately. And somewhere along the lines, MS Word decided not to sync between my PC and mobile devices, so I ended up with two, slightly differently edited versions. Thus, here’s hoping my self-purported prowess with prose was successful in stitching this scene into a sensible structure. Please forgive any unsightly seams.

Nico couldn’t remember the last time she had been this nervous. No, wait, just a few days ago, her first date with Maki. Well, first official date, not counting all of the not-actually-date-but-technically-were-dates from years prior. Unfortunately, that was quickly falling into second place as she approached the gate to the Nishikino home.

Perhaps the date had been easier because she knew Maki, knew Maki liked her, knew Maki liked spending time with her, knew Maki wanted to date her, and was fairly confident Maki was attracted to her. She had known all of these things even before they started dating officially. As such, looking back, she wasn’t sure why she had been so nervous for their first date, because with the exception of one little hiccup named Etsuko, it had all gone splendidly.

But the parental Nishikinos were more of an unknown. Nico had met both of Maki’s parents a handful of times throughout the years, but had never really gotten to know either. She was all but certain she would have little problems with Maki’s mother as she had apparently been talking behind the scenes with her mother about her and Maki’s developing relationship. And she had been quite supportive of Maki’s time as a school idol, so Nico didn’t think she would object to her intended career choice.

Maki’s father on the other hand… Nico remembered quite vividly when he almost made Maki quit being a school idol after her grades slipped the tiniest of bits; not even enough for her to drop from her position as top of her class. Umi had been the one to stand up to him, which made sense insofar as she understood having parents with high expectations. Still, looking back, Nico couldn’t help feeling a bit of regret that she hadn’t been the one to protect Maki. Sure, she had offered her support, but…

“Good evening, Yazawa-san.” A voice came over the speaker.

Nico jumped. Had she even pushed the button to announce her presence?

“Yes, good evening.” She replied as she recognized the voice of the Nishikino estate manager.

“Ojou-sama has informed me of pending arrival, though as always, you are most welcome here.”

“Thanks.” Nico replied as the buzzer sounded to indicate the gate was unlocked.

One gate down, literally. Nico thought as she made her way toward the front door. Though part of her wished Maki had been the one to answer the intercom, she was nonetheless thankful that it had been a member of the house staff with whom she got along well. At least it hadn’t been…

“D-Dr. Nishikino?” Nico sputtered as the door suddenly swung open to reveal a towering, bespectacled man who immediately fixed her with a cool and calculating gaze.

Damn. Why had she stuttered? This wasn’t the first time she had met Maki’s father, and if all went well tonight, it wouldn’t be the last. You can do this Nico! Sure it wasn’t the man she expected and she was caught a bit unaware, but… Gah! Stop being intimidated. You’re here for a reason! And that reason is Maki-chan!

“Yazawa-san.” Maki’s father stated flatly.

“Hi…” Nico cutoff by clearing her throat. “Good evening.” She corrected, offering a polite bow. “I’m…”

“I’m afraid my daughter will be unable to entertain your visit tonight.” Dr. Nishikino interrupted. “We are expecting an important guest who should be arriving presently.”

I’m an important guest? No, wait, of course I am! I’m Maki’s girlfriend now. So, buck up and tell him that.

“Yes, sir, that guest is me.” For emphasis, Nico indicated the stylish dress she had picked out specifically for the occasion. “I’m Maki’s date.”

“…” Dr. Nishikino raised an eyebrow but remained steadfast in his position.

“Nico-chan!” the voice of an angelic savior came from behind the barrier of the paternal Nishikino. “Papa, let her in.”

Dr. Nishikino stepped aside and…

Holy… Nico had to make a conscious effort to avoid letting her jaw hit the floor. Not that Nico, at any point, had forgotten that Maki was beautiful, but when the redhead went all out, it was all she could do not to stare. Though elegantly modest, the deep purple dress still managed to highlight Maki’s best features.

“You’re early.” Maki said, bringing Nico back to reality.

“I’m sorry, did I take you away from your precious piano?” Nico couldn’t help teasing a bit, figuring the younger girl had wanted to arrive at her parents’ home earlier for a few moments of nostalgia with the instrument she grew up playing.

“Yeah, actually.” Maki admitted as she glanced away sheepishly.

“Well maybe after dinner, you can continue your concert, but with an audience?” Nico pointed herself as if it wasn’t already obvious who she meant.

“I’d like that.”

“You look lovely, by the way. Purple always looks good on you, Maki-chan.”

“Thanks.” Maki replied as pink dusted her cheeks. “You look good too. I like when you leave your hair down. It makes you look more…” She trailed off.

“More?”

“Sorry, I meant…”

“More mature?” Nico completed what she believed to be her girlfriend’s thought.

“Uhm… yeah…”

“I’ll have you know Nico is always mature.” She squared her shoulders and placed her hands on her hips pridefully.

Maki raised an eyebrow in a way that left no question as to her linage.

“Anyway, I haven’t seen that dress before, is it new?”

Maki nodded. “Mama and I just got back a little while ago from picking it out.”

Huh… Mama and I were also just out shopping for my dress. Nico thought to herself. And, wait a minute… “We match.” Or at least they matched in the way their old idol costumes matched in overall theme and enough details to be an obvious set while maintaining enough individuality to be unique as well.

“We do?” Maki glanced down at herself before back at Nico. After half a second, she smiled. “Yeah, we do. What a nice coincidence.”

Nico found herself wondering if the coincidence was perchance planned by a pair of meddling mothers who meant well. She made a mental note to ask her mother about the issue later, if for no other reason than to thank her for the cute gesture.

“So, dinner isn’t for a little while yet” Maki continued “but they might have appetizers ready already so why don’t we head to the dining room and I’ll quick check?”

“Lead the way.” Nico decided not to bring up how she still got lost in the huge house, even after visiting frequently over the last few years.

“You coming, Papa?”

Nico realized she had all but forgotten the paternal Nishikino was still there. Stealing a quick side glance, she found him quietly observing the couple. If she was reading things correctly, his aura had warmed somewhat, though was no less calculating than before; gears were obviously grinding behind his stoic expression.

“Your mother and I will meet you at the table.” Dr. Nishikino stated. “I’ll go find her.”

As Maki took her hand to lead her through the house, Nico noticed her grip was tighter than normal. A lot tighter. Maki was more nervous than she was letting on. Just how worried was she about her father’s approval of their relationship? Nico already knew Maki’s mother was wholly supportive, as was her own, but the only things she really knew about Maki’s father were that he had high expectations for his daughter and was not particularly fond of idols.

“Wait, Maki-chan,” Nico said, stopping in the hallway before they reached their destination “hold up a moment.”

“Eh?” Maki uttered, not seeming to notice the change and almost yanking Nico’s arm out of the socket before being held to a halt. “Nico-chan?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“Maki.” Nico fixed her girlfriend with a steady stare. The redhead returned the gaze, though was far more furtive, and when she began to fidget with her hair, Nico reached out and gently touched her hand. “What’s wrong?” She repeated.

Maki released a puff of air. “I’m nervous, alright? I… I just really want Papa to like you.”

“I’m nervous too.” Nico admitted, her thoughts racing through things she could say to calm them both down. “But you know, he didn’t turn me away at the door, so that’s gotta count for something, right?” She paused for a moment. “Well, technically, he did, but that was before he realized why I was here, but he still let me in, so that has to mean he’s willing to give me a chance, right?”

“I just… I know he’ll bring up idols, and…”

“Maki-chan.” Nico took a step in to close some of the distance between them. “Nico didn’t become the No. 1 Idol in the Universe without learning a thing or two about reading her audience.”

“…” Maki’s expression wasn’t one of disbelief but of continued concern.

“Look, I’m not going to lie to your father about my career of choice, but I’m also not going to try to convert him into a fan or convince him that idols are the most amazing thing ever, even if I believe that myself.”

“I know…”

“And I am attending college and aim to get a degree.” Nico continued. “Sure it won’t be a fancy medical degree like yours, but I’m getting it while still being an idol. So that’s also gotta count for something, right?”

“Papa does respect hard work.”

“And Nico is a hard worker.”

“I know.” Maki affirmed, dropping her hand before leaning her head into Nico’s hand. “Nico-chan is one of the hardest workers I know when it comes to working toward her goals. It’s always admired, and envied, about you.”

Nico scoffed. “You say that as if you don’t work hard as well, Maki-chan.”

“Mmm…” Maki hummed in a tone that implied she was paying attention to something other than the conversation at hand.

Hand… Maki closed her eyes and nuzzled her cheek against Nico’s hand, causing her to open her fingers to increase contact. It should be fine here, right? Nico moved in the rest of the way and tilted her chin up. Maki followed her hand as Nico guided her down. Their lips touched and…

“Oh dear…” A startled voice uttered, causing the couple to jolt away from each other. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, Ojou-sama.”

“I-It’s f-fine…” A blushing Maki stumbled through.

Nico recognized the woman one of the newer members of the Nishikino house staff. She was responsible for general assistance wherever needed.

“Welcome, Yazawa-san.” The woman said with a polite bow, but when she righted herself, her expression was thoughtful. “Although, now that you’re dating Ojou-sama, perhaps Yazawa-sama is more appropriate?”

“Just Nico is fine.” Nico assured.

“Right, anyway, I’m on my away to retrieve some bottles of Cloudy Bay at the behest of the master.”

“White?” Maki inquired.

The woman nodded. “We’ve prepared a delightful shrimp pasta for the main course.” She turned to Nico. “Ojou-sama has informed us of your talent in the kitchen, so we hope to meet your standards, Yazawa-sama.”

Guess the new title is going to stick. Nico thought to herself. “I’m sure it will be great.”

“The caprese salads should be ready if you wish to head to the dining room now.”

“Tomatoes, of course.” Nico couldn’t help commenting.

“Yes.” The staff member confirmed. “We have also been informed of one of your preferences, so for dessert, we will be serving traditional crepes with lemon and sugar.”

“Sounds delicious.”

The woman smiled before bowing again to excuse herself and hurrying down the hall.

“Is there anything wrong with your father requesting white wine?” Nico asked, trying to gauge her girlfriend’s reaction.

“I don’t believe so.” Maki shook her head. “White is better paired with seafood, after all.”

“Yes, but…?”

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” Maki shook her head again. “Cloudy Bay is actually one of Papa’s favorites. He’s quite fond of the New Zealand area in general.”

“One of his favorites? That’s gotta be a good sign, right?”

“I hope so.”

Nico took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then released it slowly. “Well, the salad is apparently ready, so we may as well get to it.”

Maki nodded before taking Nico’s hand once more to complete their journey to the dining room. Nico noted, thankfully, that her girlfriend’s grip was far more relaxed this time around.

Upon arrival, the couple was greeted by the Nishikino estate manager who showed them to their seats. Shortly thereafter, Maki’s parents arrived and took their own seats. Next the chef and her assistant from before arrived with the first course. Finally, the first bottle of wine was uncorked and the meal was underway.

“So, Yazawa-san,” Dr. Nishikino stated, drawing Nico’s attention “you’ve known Maki since high school, am I correct?”

“Yes.” Nico affirmed. “It was Maki-chan’s first year and my third.”

“I see. And were you one of the girls who helped convince her to become an idol?”

Well, that didn’t take long for the subject to come up. Nico thought to herself. Straight to the point, I guess, unlike a certain dishonest daughter of his…

“Actually, it was the other way around.” Nico replied.

“Oh?”

“I was in a disillusioned and jaded state back then, after my first attempt at forming a group fell through.” Nico admitted. “And it was Honoka and Maki-chan and the others that pulled me out of my funk and helped me remember why I adored idols so much and wanted so desperately to be one.” She couldn’t help smiling as fond memories flooded her mind. “I really do owe them all a debt of gratitude for that.”

“I see. And you are still an idol now?”

“Part time.” Nico nodded. “I was able to find a small production company that was willing to work around my classes. It fills up my schedule and keeps me busy, but also lets me keep my foot in the door.”

“Because you intend to go full time even once you’ve earned a degree?”

Nico wasn’t particularly fond of the wording of the question and had to resist the urge to call it out; had it been Maki and they were in a more casual setting, she likely would have done so.

“I do.” She said aloud instead. “And once I retire from being an idol, the degree will help me find other employment.”

“And what type of employment might that be?”

“Something still in the industry, if possible.” Out of the corner of her eye, Nico caught a suppressed expression of surprise on her girlfriend’s face. Understandable, as it was news to Maki as well. “Choreographer, trainer, costume design, heck maybe even a producer, someday. Basically, I’d like to pay forward my debt by helping the next generations of idols.”

“And one is able to earn a living in such an industry?”

“Others have before me; I believe I can as well.” Nico gave another glance to the redhead beside her. “I may not have the skills to become a life-saving doctor like Maki, but I can still do my part to make the world a better place; one smile at a time.”

“Medicine, law, business, engineering,” Maki’s mother suddenly spoke up “these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.” She smiled at Nico. “I believe Mr. Keating’s words hold true for many things. Music, painting, writing, really the arts as a whole are what make life worth living.”

“Mr. Keating?” Nico inquired.

“The lead character of Dead Poets Society.” Maki responded. “We should watch it sometime, Nico-chan; it’s really good.”

“And it is because the arts are so important” Dr. Nishikino continued “that my husband and I strive to support them as much as possible. In fact, we will be attending a performance of The Barber of Seville late next month and have not even started sending out invites to fill our box. You two are more than welcome to join us.”

At this, Maki’s eyes lit up. “Next month? When?”

“I’ll message you the dates later, but it’s a weekend so you should be able to work it into your study schedule.”

Maki turned to Nico with an expression rivaling the one she wore when December started. “Do you want to come with me?”

Nico smiled at her girlfriend’s excitement and word choice. “I’d love to. But where have I heard that title before?”

“From my playlist.”

“Tchaikovsky?” Nico made sure to pronounce the name as correctly as she could.

Maki shook her head. “Rossini.”

Nico racked her memory. “Cinderella?”

“Yes, different opera, same composer.”

“One smile at a time, you said?” Maki’s father suddenly stated.

“Oh, yeah.” Nico recalled her words from a few minutes ago.

The barest hint of something tugged at the edges of Dr. Nishikino’s lips. “Well, if nothing else, you have succeeded in making my daughter smile.” He nodded toward Maki, directing Nico’s attention back to the mentioned reaction. “And as my wife and I can attest, that is not always the easiest of tasks.”

“… P-Papa…” Maki offered a mild protest as pink dusted her cheeks and her mother chuckled.

Nico couldn’t help a smile of her own as she turned back to Maki’s father. “I think I’m up to the challenge.”

“Indeed.”

Wait… wasn’t this a bit hypocritical? Nico suddenly thought. Why claim to be a patron of the arts while simultaneously disallowing one’s daughter from being an artist?

On occasion, Maki had bemoaned being railroaded into the medical career while her dreams of being a professional pianist were dismissed as a passing fancy. Yet she hadn’t acknowledged the contradiction. Was she even aware of it? With the level of reverence Maki held for her parents, Nico could easily imagine her remaining oblivious; well, that and Maki’s overall naivete in many aspects of life.

Should she tell her? Was it even Nico’s place say such a thing? Nico was no stranger to speaking her mind when it came to her own interests, or those of her siblings. And she was dating Maki now, which meant defending her girlfriend’s best interests also shouldn’t surprise anyone. Or at least what she believed to be Maki’s best interests, as her parents obviously felt differently.

“On a related topic, Yazawa-san, Maki has told us much about your shared love of music.” Dr. Nishikino continued.

Nico derailed her own train of thought and refocused her attention on the conversation at hand. “It is one of our favorite subjects to discuss… or argue over.”

“And you often listen together while studying.”

“I believe music helps keep us in a good mood, which then helps us study.” Nico explained.

“I think we can all attest to the positive effects of music.” The Nishikino matriarch said.

“Indeed.” Her husband agreed.

“And Maki-chan has helped expand my appreciation of other genres of music.” Nico turned to her girlfriend. “And I’d like to think I’ve expanded hers as well.”

Maki nodded an affirmation with a smile.

“Maki also has told us that she often helps you study.”

“She does.” Nico confirmed. “Maki is incredibly smart. Even if she doesn’t know the answer to a problem, she is often able to logic things through and help guide me in the right direction. Honestly, if I didn’t already know she was going to be a doctor, I’d’ve suggested she become a teacher.”

“Now that would be an interesting career choice.” Maki’s mother said thoughtfully.

“Hrm…” Her father seemed less than convinced. “So, do you help her study in return?”

“Well…” Nico started.

“Nico-chan helps in other ways, Papa.” Maki offered. “Even if she isn’t able to help me with a given topic, she helps ensure I take regular breaks so I can come back with better focus. She makes sure I’m hydrated and helps track my nutrition and is quite insistent on keeping a decent sleep schedule. Honestly, she’s better at taking care of me than I am.” Her eyes widened as her admission registered in her mind.

“That’s right,” Her mother continued with the thoughtfulness from earlier, though Nico was sure she detected some teasing undertones “wasn’t it Nico that saved Maki from herself back on her birthday?”

“Mama…” Maki was losing a battle in trying to keep down another blush.

“Maki is very diligent in her studies.” Nico stated. “And I’m happy to help where I can.”

“Hmm… sounds like another couple we know, right Dear?” Dr. Nishikino sent a sly smile toward her husband, the teasing more obvious now.

“… Perhaps.” Maki’s father conceded.

Was it Nico’s imagination or did she just catch another glimpse into the source of some of Maki’s behavior? The Nishikino patriarch wasn’t the easiest to read behind his stoic mask, but his daughter wasn’t always straightforward with her emotions either and Nico had figured her out fairly well by this point.

As far as Nico was concerned, the rest of dinner went quite smoothly. Once Maki’s father got past his initial questions, he remained mostly quite. It ended up being Nico and Maki’s mother carrying the bulk of the conversations, which honestly didn’t really surprise Nico all that much. Maki’s mother inquired about Nico’s family, though Nico suspected she already knew most of the things anyway and it was more for Maki’s father’s sake. Still, Nico wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to brag about her amazing siblings and about how proud of them she was in taking care of the household and themselves in her absence.

After dinner, Maki’s parents excused themselves to finish up the day’s emails and paperwork. Nico couldn’t help but wonder if that would be something Maki would end up doing once she became more involved with the hospital administrative duties.

As for Nico herself, she joined Maki in the Nishikino music room for the previously promised private concert. There, she had happily settled into the best seat in the house, next her girlfriend on the bench. All in all, it was a wonderful conclusion to what she believed to be a wonderful night. However, as confident as she was, she still wanted to be sure, so she made a mental note to ask the one she believed would know best, or at least better than herself.

“So, how did I do?” Nico asked, once she was sure they were well beyond earshot of anyone even remotely associated with the Nishikino residence.

“You were perfect, Nico-chan.” Maki responded with a smile that sent a warm feeling through Nico’s chest. “I think Papa likes you and is fine with us dating, and we already know how Mama feels.”

Thank the gods… Nico thought with relief. And with that load off her mind, “Of course I was perfect,” she decided to get in some teasing of her own, after spending the evening watching Dr. Nishikino do so “Nico is always perfect.” She grinned and held up her signature gesture.

“Id…” Maki’s typical retort was interrupted by a yawn.

Nico laughed before continuing the tradition. “You love it.”

“… Maybe…” Maki managed to get out as her energy seemed to be leaving her rapidly.

Nico leaned her shoulder into her girlfriend. “Steady there, Maki-chan, you going to be alright getting back to your dormroom?”

“Eh? But, I thought…”

“You thought…?”

“I thought I was going to your place?”

“Well you can, obviously you’re always welcome, but…” Nico motioned to Maki’s outfit, taking the moment to enjoy the view as well “I figured since you don’t have a change of clothes, you wouldn’t want to put this back on in the morning.”

“It’s fine…” Maki stifled another yawn. “I just want to go home…” She blinked and shook her head. “I mean your home… Yours… yours and Nozomi’s, I mean… ueeehhh…”

Nico chuckled. “It’s your home too, Maki-chan.” By the gods did she want to kiss the redhead whose cheeks were now matching her hair, but even this late at night, there was a risk of being seen. Later. She promised herself. “Nozomi and my names may be on the lease,” she said instead “but that doesn’t make it any less home to you or Eli.”

“T-thank you…”

“You don’t have to thank me for that; that much is normal for couples, right? But you know, Eli does leave a lot of stuff in Nozomi’s room…” Nico thought aloud “perhaps I should clear out a drawer and make some room in the closet for you.”

“I’d like that.” Maki smiled. “I’ll be sure to bring some stuff over soon.”

“Good. For tonight, you can borrow your usual sleep shirt and we’ll figure out something else in the morning. I think the outfit I lent you the other day is clean, but if not, maybe Nozomi has something that will fit you.”

Maki nodded.

“Then it’s settled.” Nico took Maki’s hand as they boarded the train together. “Let’s go home.”

Author’s Note Continued in Followup Post

[bouwrites]

Even Heroes Have the Right to Dream: Chapter 8

Tonight I swear I’d sell my soul to be a hero for you.

First, Previous, Next. Ao3.

Story under read-more.

“Marinette?” Jon calls blindly into the apartment as he examines the note in his hands.

“What?” Marinette appears from the hallway. “What’s up?”

“Can you, like, convert this for me?”

Marinette furrows her brow. When Jon hands her the paper and she catches sight of what’s on it, she sighs heavily and rolls her eyes. “I don’t know American measurements. Just use what it says, you baby.” She says. Jon takes a step forward when she taps his shoulder so that she can squeeze past him and approach one of the cabinets. From which she pulls out a scale. Oh. I didn’t know we had that. Right behind the scale is some spoons from a drawer. “The butter is measured on the packaging. These measure mililiters. Everything else, use this like a normal person.”

“The butter is measured by tablespoons, not- oh, wait, no, I see it now.” Jon frowns at the stick of butter in his hands. “This is so much math.”

Marinette snorts and rolls her eyes again. “Americans. What are you making a cake for, anyway?”

“You remember Tamias?”

“From your speech class?”

“Yeah! His birthday’s coming up. David is freaking out over it, so we’re all pitching in to throw him a party.”

“David?”

“Hernandez? We worked together on a few projects. Massive crush on Tamias. Like, he’s adorable.”

“Oh, the one that got us into that debate about Harry Potter for like three hours.”

Jon snickers. “Yeah, that’s him.”

Jon can feel Marinette’s eyes on him as he gathers everything he needs to make the cake. He would think that having a baker’s daughter watching him bake would be reassuring, but to be perfectly honest? It’s not. It’s kind of terrifying. “Do you know what you’re doing?” Marinette asks.

“I’ve made cake before, Marinette.” Jon rolls his eyes. “And I cook for us half the time. Do you really have so little faith in me?”

Marinette just fixes him with a flat look and asks, “Do you want me to help?”

Jon maintains that he can do it on his own. Still, he wants the cake to be as good as it can be, and Marinette can be considered somewhat of an expert on the subject. And David wants everything to be perfect so he will get on Jon’s case if he finds out a baker’s daughter offered to help and he turned it down. So, Jon sets down the recipe and quietly says, “Yes, please.”

Marinette giggles. It’s an angelic sound Jon really should appreciate more. “Okay, move over.” She quickly grabs one of the bowls and starts throwing ingredients in without measuring a thing. “And for the record, you can do it alone. It’s just going to be better if I help.”

Jon opens his mouth to protest but ends up just groaning. “Yeah, that’s fair. Thanks, Marinette.”

“No problem. I need a distraction, anyway.”

“Oh, really?” Jon asks, picking up the bowl of sugar and butter to cream it together while Marinette flits around him to grab something he missed. They don’t have a stand mixer, mostly because they hardly have space for their coffee maker if they still want to use the countertops, but his muscles are good for something. “Studying?”

Marinette pauses. “Something like that.” She says. “So, when’s this party?”

Jon frowns at her behavior but, ultimately, if she doesn’t want to share, she doesn’t need to. She’ll tell him if it’s any of his business. “Saturday. You want to come? No one would mind.”

Marinette hums for a moment. “No, thank you. I’m just going to get a head start on studying for finals.”

He shrugs. “Probably a good idea. We’ve got real dumb shenanigans planned to set up David and Tamias and you are probably smart for not being there, honestly.”

“Oh, god.” Marinette mutters. “Alya used to pull some of the most convoluted plans to set me up with Adrien before we got together. I don’t even want to imagine what a boy’s version of that is.”

Jon can’t help laughing at the disgusted look on her face. “When David’s involved?” He says. “You really don’t.”

Predictably, David ends up setting the curtains on fire. It’s not his fault, of course, but it happens anyway. Their other friend, Mason (the most reasonable one, including Jon), gets $20 from each of them, though it’s Jon who actually puts the fire out. With a small fire extinguisher that Mason brings. Because he totally calls it.

Truth be told, Jon isn’t exactly close with anyone there. He meets most of them through projects or each other and sort of falls into this group by accident. He spends much more time with Marinette than with other NYU students. Partly because, now, anyway, he doesn’t have to hide around her. He doesn’t have to worry about small feats that normal people aren’t able to do. Too casually moving furniture, or forgetting to put on an oven mitt and not burning himself. And partly because when David does anything outside of his field of expertise, something ends up on fire or otherwise destroyed.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, it’s usually because of his area of expertise.

Today’s explanation boils down to “mood lighting.” Jesse is their lookout while David insists everyone light candles to “set the mood” so he can pull Tamias into the room later and ask him out. Luckily, they don’t get very far. Unfortunately, the reason they don’t get far is because David “I can make a chandelier in five minutes” Hernandez thinks duct tape, a prayer, and a bunch of random things he finds in his bedroom can make a cute chandelier.

It’s more about if he can than if he should. Jon gives Mason the twenty bucks while David is taping his creation to the ceiling fan. In hindsight, he should not have had faith that David would pull off the night without injuring something.

Anyway, the chandelier, surprisingly, works. The problem comes when he puts candles up there and takes a look at it and says, “This was a really dumb waste of time, wasn’t it?” And, to be fair, it is hideous, all wire and tape, so it’s not exactly the mood-setter he hopes for. David reaches up to take it down again, and that’s when everything goes wrong. He slips, lit candles fly everywhere, there’s wax on the floor, a curtain is catching fire, and Jon is already pulling out the fire extinguisher.

On the bright side, Tamias comes in, sees David wincing and holding his head, and rushes to his side to fuss over him. Mason ushers everyone else out of the room, leaving David with Tamias and a wink.

While they wait for the lovebirds to come back out, they make an obstacle course for David’s cat. And David. There’s a lot of tape involved. Jon mostly watches, since he feels weird setting up all this in David’s home, but the others are a lot closer to him and they don’t hesitate a moment. Apparently, this is normal.

Note to self, Jon thinks, never let them in your apartment.

“Beer?”

Jon shakes his head. He has drunk before, but he can’t get drunk unless his powers are inhibited somehow, and alcohol tastes terrible, so he doesn’t see the point. It’s not a bad thing. He actually counts it as a blessing because if he could get drunk, he would be ardently against it. He does not want to see anyone with his kind of powers inebriated. That’s just asking for trouble.

Not to mention he’s technically still underaged. Marinette’s old enough, though, this year, as is Mason. No one thinks much about it when everyone’s in college together.

“You figure out your major yet?” Mason asks, making himself comfortable on the couch next to him.

“Nope.” Jon answers.

“Seriously? We pick classes like next week, dude. You going another semester undeclared?”

“Might have to.”

Jesse leans over the back of the sofa to say, “You were on that whole moral ideals thing a while ago. Why not study ethics or something?”

Jon has considered studying ethics, but that has always been just a joke. He can’t imagine himself having fun in ethics. “Because I know an ethics major.” Jon says with a snort.

“Ha! True. You could do, like… geology. Or archeology. I don’t know why; I see you digging.”

“That’s because I grew up on a farm.”

“Oh, right.” Jesse whispers. “Was that racist?”

Jon looks at Jesse for a moment. “…No. It’s not a bad idea, though.” He takes a moment to ponder those options. He would do well in archeology. Finding old things from past civilizations, learning about what they were for and the people that used them… it’s a good idea.

Ethics is too subjective. There are no real answers, so every argument will always end up circling around itself until everyone is infuriated. Especially Jon. Especially with him having been a hero. And maybe he really just doesn’t want to be told that he has to be a hero to be a good person. He’s starting to believe he doesn’t, just a little, thanks to the Girod, and he’s not risking diving into ethics and having that crisis again.

That said, one of Jon’s leading options has always been studying people. Politics or sociology or something in that vein. Archeology, or maybe broader, anthropology, might be exactly what he’s looking for. To study cultures and civilization, to learn about the dominant race on Earth in a way he’ll never understand Kryptonians. It’s a little exciting, when he thinks about it. And it’s funny – the alien studying humans. Jon will get a giggle out of that for a long time. “I could do anthropology.”

Mason hums. “I can see that for you. Cultural anthropology sounds like your jam, to be honest.”

Jon laughs somewhat awkwardly. It’s true, but he honestly didn’t think Mason knows him well enough to tell. Maybe he’s just that transparent. He can buy that. Despite how much he hides about his identity and abilities, he’s not exactly an enigma. He’s certainly no Damian. “You think?”

“Worth looking into.” Mason shrugs. “You’re running out of time, dude.”

“Yeah, good point.” Jon makes a face. “I’ll have to look into it.”

David and Tamias stumble out of Mason and Jesse’s makeshift hallway obstacle course, the former glaring and the latter giggling awkwardly. Everyone watches David expectantly, but they get a curt shake of his head and it’s all they can do to stop themselves from groaning. Maybe next time. At least Tamias is having fun.

The more Jon looks into it, the more appealing the option is. Or maybe it’s just because he needs to sign up for classes and any direction is a godsend.

He likes the idea of anthropology. It’s a grab bag of history, culture, human behavior, even biology if he wants to go in that direction, and to a lesser extent all the myriad specializations that go into the entirety of human history, which is basically all of them. Maybe he can even learn a bit about fashion history and surprise Marinette. Extant garments from history count under the sphere of anthropology, Jon thinks, so it isn’t impossible.

Actually, that’d be pretty interesting. If Marinette has taught me anything about clothes, it’s that they can tell you a lot about the people who wear them. I wonder how much we can learn about a culture just from its clothes.

And I wonder if anything I learn studying this could be applied to Krypton, too. That would be interesting.

Jon talks to Marinette about it, and then Damian, and then his parents, and every one of them is supportive of this direction for him. Granted, all of them boil down to, “If that’s what you want to do,” but still. Aunt Kara gets a big laugh at the idea, and then gets really excited about it, and Jon can’t help but wonder if she’s just supporting him in that odd, exuberant way she does (the way that he’s half-sure she’s only like with him, because she knows it’s a surefire way to make him smile – she’s done that since he was little) or if she gets the idea that he might use the techniques and methods he learns studying humans and turn his gaze back to Krypton. Maybe they can recover even a little of that lost culture that even Aunt Kara can’t hold onto.

Jon’s not against the idea, he just doesn’t want her to get her hopes up. As neat as it would be, Jon still doesn’t know how he would even start, much less whether he wants to. It’s just… an academic interest. Because he’s one of very few people with that option available to him. A path mapped by curiosity, not passion. Maybe that will change if Jon starts down it, but only God knows the future.

But once he talks to the ones he’s closest to, he talks to the boys again, mostly for reassurance, and then he talks to his advisor and all of a sudden things start happening a little too quickly

All at once he’s signing up for classes and running around to turn in forms to their proper places all without time to really think about what he’s doing. Fair enough, he supposes, once he has time to breathe again. He’s been thinking it over for a year and a half, basically. It’s about time something is actually done.

With everything over and done with, Jon sits on the sofa in his living room, leans back to stare at the ceiling, and smiles. He’s not certain he’s making the right choice, he’s not sure that this is definitely, one hundred percent the thing he wants to spend his time doing, but he’s finally taken that first step in a direction. Finally, the crossroads ahead of him has become a path, and even if it’s not the best path for him, it’s still a direction. That’s a lot less scary.

It’s not like he’s locked in place, anyway. He might be a bit locked into his major soon, if how quickly his first year (and this semester) goes by says anything about his college experience, but even then, that doesn’t dictate his career. He still has a lot of options; they’re just not swarming all around him. And it’s such a relief.

He sighs there on the couch and feels lighter than he has in a long time. He has focus, direction, something to work towards beyond some vague ideal of normalcy. He’s finding in his attempt to decipher the Girod some Frankenstein of an ethics system that doesn’t necessitate heroism for its own sake, even if deep in his heart he knows he’s crafting it himself and at least to an extent is working backwards from his conclusion, the one that he needs, that he’s not a bad person. (He’s not sure that’s a bad thing, though.) He’s actually excited about the future! For the sheer number of times he’s thought there might not be one, that’s quite an achievement.

And he can’t do this without Marinette. Through all of his floundering, his philosophical musings, his hesitation, his fear and doubt, she’s always right there. Something close enough to normal to matter. A rock that he can float back down to. She’s his tree on the farm, that sits quietly with him as he watches the stars, that holds him up when he’s scared of falling.

It’s been a long time since Jon has just sat down and felt content. When Marinette joins him and they watch a show on the television, Jon can’t help but think how lovely it would be for this to be his normal. If this feeling, this moment, could last forever, Jon would be happy.

Jon gets an unexpected text from Damian during winter break. It’s odd partly because Damian is the kind of person who calls more often than not, partly because Damian is the kind of person who will show up outside Jon’s window in every other situation, and partly because, to Jon’s knowledge, there’s no cause for Damian to contact him at all.

They’re friends, of course, but it would be a massive lie to say they’re the kind of friends who hit each other up just to talk. Neither of them are really that kind of person. Frankly, Jon is a little surprised that they’re still friends now that he isn’t a hero. Sad as it is, he half-expects them to drift apart quickly without them working together all the time.

But however much a text from Damian throws him off, the content is what takes his legs out from under him. It’s a link to a news article, with no additional context. The article is originally in French, but apparently the batcave translated it already so what Damian sends him is helpfully readable.

And Jon feels a little like something is grabbing his heart. Too-cold hands wrapped around it, constricting it, trying their best to mute its beating.

“Mayura Strikes Again,” the headline reads, “Ladybug Returns.”

Ladybug returns. The words echo in his head easily, finding nothing else to disrupt them. His mind is empty except for that one thought. That, and the sickening feeling he has in his gut. “Marinette…”

He scrolls through the article, dread and horror looming over him, drooling on him, sliding down his spine to send shivers all through him. There are pictures. Mayura, Chat Noir, a couple heroes Jon only knows tangentially – they were around before but stopped fairly early on, Marinette tells him their identities were outed – Queen Bee and Viperion, and there in all her glory, Ladybug. Marinette.

She’s older than the last picture of her. Her hair is longer, though Jon knows she’s thinking of cutting it short. She’s wearier, more tired, strangely enough, despite being out of the fight for over a year. Jon thinks it’s what Damian says is going on with him. He’s safe, so he can process everything. It’s hard, and Jon knows Marinette struggles with it too, but that’s why he can’t… He can’t fathom why she’d do this.

No. He can. He knows better than anyone why. There is no other choice but to fight, or so she thinks. Mayura got her Miraculous back somehow, so the battle, Marinette’s old battle, the one she became Ladybug in the first place to fight, is back on. She’s obligated to fight. To finish her duty. It’s her responsibility, and Marinette is, without a doubt, a responsible person. Jon understands, he just… feels betrayed.

It’s stupid to feel this way. She can do whatever she likes. If she wants to become a hero again, or even if she just feels like there’s no other option, then she can. But Jon thought they were in this life, this choice to leave heroism behind them, together. He thought they were working on this as a team, and he can’t help but feel a little like Marinette has guided him onto the field, handed him the football, and left him to face a whole team of linemen on his own.

Not to mention, as much as he hurts for himself, he hurts for her, too. He knows – he might be the only one who knows – how hard it must be for her to decide to fight again. He wonders what pushes her to this point, if Mayura is really so extreme on her own, and he pities her. Jon has been called back to duty more than a few times since he retired, and not just by Damian. He’s always refused. He always tells them that he can’t help them. Marinette is called back, and she answers. Jon doesn’t know if that’s brave or stupid, but either way he knows how she feels, and because he does, he can’t be angry at her. He feels betrayed, confused, and alone, but not angry. All he feels for her is pity. That she is put in an impossible position. He wishes her the best.

And then he turns his attention back to himself. He wonders what might cause him to don the cape again, and he fights the urge to retch. How can she do this? How can she be strong enough to do this? Jon isn’t. He doesn’t think he is, anyway. Just watching her, watching his normal soar over rooftops and beat down the bad guy, is enough to freeze Jon completely. It’s hard to breathe, to think, impossible to move. The very idea of doing that himself is… ridiculous.

Above everything else, though? Above it all, Jon is disappointed. And scared. Is this how his own retirement will end? Will he soon enough face that one call to action that he just can’t refuse? Is he wrong to resist it? Is he truly a coward, selfish, despicable for trying so hard to avoid it? Would refusing that irrefusable call to action be those things?

Jon tries to remember the Girod. Peace, his devotion to non-violence. Imagination, cleverness in finding the non-violent path even when it isn’t obvious. Hope, maintenance in his belief that things can and will be better. Restraint, to never take things too far when they can be resolved more gently. Purity, his ideals cannot be compromised no matter the situation. Justice… Must Justice be sacrificed for the rest of the virtues? Is it simply not possible to uphold them all?

Where is Justice if Mayura creates these monsters and Ladybug does not fight them? Where is justice if someone on the streets of New York cries out for help, and no one comes? Justice is the most difficult of the virtues for Jon to reconcile, and right now… he doesn’t know what to think.

He hates this. He hates everything about this. He hates the look on Ladybug’s face in the video and pictures, hates how disgusted she looks, hates that he’s one of few people who will understand that the look isn’t for the monster, but for herself. He hates that she’s in Paris fighting a battle she wants no part in while he’s on a farm in Hamilton County waiting for the stars to shine. He hates that there’s nothing he can do to help her, to save her from this impossible position she’s in. He hates that that desire itself is a little too close to heroism, and he especially hates the unreasonable panic and nausea that overcomes him.

How awful this entire situation is. How unfair and terrible the fates are to them both. But above all else, Will Marinette be okay?

The situation with Mayura escalates and resolves quickly. Marinette comes back to New York later than she usually does, but still before classes start. If Jon doesn’t know any better, he’d think she’s just more lax because they’re getting used to how college works.

All through break he agonizes over whether to reach out to her. To offer to contact the Justice League for her (pointless, since it’s Damian who tells him about the situation in the first place), to offer anything he can do to help, but every time he touches his phone he feels paralyzed. He doesn’t know what to say, how to approach this, or, really, anything at all.

He ends up not speaking to her much over the break. She doesn’t call him, either, but he supposes she has bigger things to focus on.

But he refuses to let this be a repeat of last year. He will not let this turn them into strangers in their own home again. He won’t allow this to be what breaks them apart. Jon is still friends with Damian. He still has other hero friends. If Marinette has to be a hero, then fine. Jon won’t let this stop them from being friends. Maybe they can’t be everything they thought, maybe things are different and uncertain and scary, but they can be friends at least.

So, when Marinette finally arrives in New York, Jon sits at their little table and waits. It feels almost like he’s preparing for an intervention, and he’s awkward and uncomfortable in that little wooden chair despite the cushion Marinette made for it.

Marinette walks into the living room, sees him, and shrinks in the hallway. “I take it you saw the news.” She says softly.

“I did.” Jon confirms. “Sorry to spring this on you, but you know we have to talk about it.”

Marinette flinches, but nods. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t… they needed me. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice, Marinette.” Jon thinks his voice sounds tired, almost dead, but for the way she recoils he’d think he’s vicious. It sends a little pang through him and he closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to watch. “I’m not angry. I’m just… sad.”

“…That’s worse.” Her voice is barely a whisper, but he hears it.

“Look.” He says. “I’m not letting this be last year all over again. I can’t handle that, I don’t think you can handle that, and neither of our grades can handle that either. So, don’t close off from me, okay? I’m not- I’m not angry. I’m not- I’m feeling a lot of things, but nothing at you. If that makes any sense. I just- I want to know. It’s fine if you’re going to keep being a hero. I promise. I’m still friends with all my old hero partners – I don’t have a problem being friends with a hero. Just don’t lie to me, Marinette.” He hears her suck in a hissing breath. “Are you serious about giving it up or not? Because I thought we were in this together, and… And now everything’s different, and I can’t keep doing this, either. If I’m doing this alone, I need to know. It’s fine if I am. That was the original plan, anyway. So, tell me the truth.”

Marinette doesn’t say anything for a too-long moment. Jon opens his eyes to peek at her when he hears the other chair pull out from the table. Marinette sits properly, folding her hands in her lap, and stares at the table between them. “I don’t want to be a hero. I promise, I was honest. I never wanted to fight again. I honestly thought I wouldn’t have to.”

“But you did.”

“I did. I’m sorry. I didn’t see any other option.”

Jon takes a deep breath. “Marinette… the life that I want, it’s non-violent. I’m trying my best to be as pacifist as I can. You inspired that decision. You told me that violence is violence no matter what it’s for. That heroes who fight can’t truly say they stand for peace. I know you’re not me, and I know your… values and ideals are different than mine, but… in the life that you want, is peace something you value?”

“Of course, it is.”

“Then why would you sacrifice that?” Jon sighs, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I- I’m just confused.”

“No. You’re right.” Marinette sniffs a little, and she’s all tension as she glares at the table. “I was… I felt trapped. Like I had no other option. But I did, and there’s no excuse for fighting. If I’d just looked closer, I could have found a way. I should have.”

“You said before that part of the reason you quit being a hero is because you felt trapped.” Jon says. “I think this might be why. At least partly.”

Marinette ducks her head, grimacing. “You’re probably right. But… I have to be honest with you. I am the guardian of the Miraculous. I don’t want to be, but I am. I left the Miracle Box with Chat Noir when I came here, and because I abandoned my responsibilities, nearly all of the Miraculous were stolen, and Paris had to deal with Mayura again.”

“Do you really blame yourself for that?”

“I do.” Marinette says firmly. “It’s my responsibility to look after the Miraculous, and they got stolen because I abandoned them.”

Jon can see how she comes to that conclusion. He doesn’t exactly agree, but her logic isn’t faulty. “So?”

“So, I can’t neglect my duties anymore. If I’m the guardian, I have to act like it. Otherwise, we’ll end up with another tragedy.”

Jon nods slowly. “So, you’re going to keep being Ladybug.” Marinette curls her lip and nods. “And you’re okay with that?”

“…No.”

Jon takes a deep breath. “Marinette… I don’t know what the right thing to do is. I don’t. But I want to see you happy. I don’t want you sacrificing yourself for ‘duty’ or whatever you’re obligated to do. That’s what heroes do, and being heroes has…” He chuckles helplessly. “Well, we left that behind for a reason.”

Marinette furrows her brow, worries her lip, and then sighs slowly. “You’re right. You asked me if I’m serious about giving up Ladybug. Adrien made me promise to be happy.” She takes another deep breath, preparing herself. A single tear escapes her, alarming Jon as it rolls quickly down her cheek. “This is my answer, then. I, Marinette Dupain-Cheng…”

Tikki appears out of nowhere, screeching her protest. “Marinette, don’t!”

“…hereby relinquish the Miracle Box and nam-”

The moment she starts glowing, and Tikki turns a deadly glare to him, it clicks in Jon’s brain what exactly Marinette is doing. He throws the table aside, accidentally tossing it quite a bit further than he intends, and dives to slap his hand over Marinette’s mouth. “Don’t you dare!” Jon growls.

Marinette, stunned speechless and no longer glowing now that her… ceremony, or whatever, is interrupted, levels a glare at him. She pushes him off of her and snaps, “Why not? I’ll never be happy so long as this stupid guardianship has me trapped in this life. No matter what I do, it’ll always be my job to clean up Miraculous messes, whether I want to or not. The only way to live the life that I want is to pass it on and forget it all.”

“But you’re the best Ladybug ever, Marinette!” Tikki protests. “You can’t just give it all up!”

“I already did!” Marinette says. “I already told you I don’t want to be a hero! I love you, Tikki, but you haven’t been paying attention. I’m sorry, but I’m not Ladybug anymore. I haven’t been since I made the decision to come to New York.”

“But-”

“Don’t ask me to keep doing something I hate, Tikki. Please.”

“But I-” Tikki flinches when she catches herself, and then finally whispers. “Okay. I just want you to be happy.”

“Thank you.” Marinette turns her gaze to Jon. “I expected Tikki to try, but why did you stop me? Don’t you see? This is the other way. This is how I can live peacefully.”

Jon watches her talk to Tikki with an understated anger simmering just beneath his skin, agitated like the surface of the ocean, rippling across his body like liquid. And when she talks to him, he can’t help how his voice raises just a little. “What did I just say?” He asks. “Don’t sacrifice yourself! Like it or not, your memories make you who you are. I’m not letting you throw away so much of your life just because you can’t see a better option! You’re Marinette Dupain-Cheng! You’ll figure out another option. I’ll make another option for you if that’s what it takes! But don’t you dare sacrifice yourself, again, for your stupid ‘duty’ you hear?!”

Marinette and Tikki both are staring wide-eyed at him. Then, all at once, both of them look ashamed of themselves. “You’re right.” Marinette says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Jon winces. He hates that temper of his. He hates that he gets angry sometimes when he shouldn’t. But Marinette just… giving up. After so much effort put into creating what they’ve found, and so much potential in the future, to just give up now is… “Sorry I yelled.” He says. “But don’t give up on this. Don’t give up hope. We’ll figure it out.”

Marinette nods. It’s uncertain and hesitant, but she does. “I hope so.”

——-=——-

Tag List: @moonystars14 @pawsitivelymiraculous @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @buticaaba @bigpicklebananatree @lozzybowe  @moonlightstar64 @amayakans @theatreandcomicfreak​  @toodaloo-kangaroo​ @too0bsessedformyowngood​ <3

[kayliemusing]

33

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you? - If you're talking about aliens or ghosts, yes lol

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you? - 3. I can manage but sometimes I get unnerved, especially if I'm alone in the dark outside

3. The person you would never want to meet? - Anyone who could hurt me

4. What is your favorite word? - Wonderstruck. I also like the word 'elegance' bc I like the way it sounds.

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be? - cherry blossom tree

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought? - 'Ew'

7. What shirt are you wearing? - I'm wearing a blue sweater

8. What do you label yourself as? - A few things: a romantic, writer, daydreamer, perfectionist, etc

9. Bright room or dark room? - Bright

10. What were you doing at midnight last night? - Heading to bed

11. Favorite age you’ve been so far? - I think I liked being seventeen, but I can't really remember

12. Who told you they loved you last? - My mom probably lol

13. Your worst enemy? - My sister's abusive ex

14. What is your current desktop picture? - A forest

15. Do you like someone? - No one in my real life, but I've developed a sudden crush on Evan Peters in the last 24 hrs lmao

16. The last song you listened to? - The Last Great American Dynasty by Taylor Swift, I think

17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up? - My sister's ex

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face? - My sister's ex

19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do? - Idk if I'd have a slave tbh lol

20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional) - My hair, I guess

21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do? - I'd probably look like myself, but maybe taller and obviously more masculine. I don't know what I'd do. I don't think I'd be a writer, because maybe my experience would be different. So...not sure.

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it? - This is weird and if anyone asks me, I'll deny it, but I can make stomach grumbling noises without opening my mouth. Honestly not hard to do, but I think I'm really good at it lmao

23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of? - I don't really have a unique fear. I think what I'm afraid of is normal. I'm super afraid of failure, loss, and getting older bc I feel like growing old comes with loss. Terrified of spiders and most bugs. Deep water bc I can't swim well. So...Pretty basic I think.

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal. - A standard PB and J.

25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it? - I'd probably just take it to the bank and put it in my bank account, which would most likely end up going towards makeup, books, skincare or clothes.

26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go? - Maybe NYC? Or totally the opposite and going somewhere super quiet and beautiful, like a countryside in England or France lol.

27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be? - I feel like an angel wouldn't offer me that, but maybe a dessert wine. I'm not really a fan of alcohol so Idk what else I'd choose lol.

28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place? - Everyone listens and loves Taylor Swift, if not, you're going to jail

29. What is your favorite expletive? - 'bitch' I think lol

30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno? - My laptop

31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? - Probably an embarrassing moment. I would want to erase traumas but then I feel like that would actually end up messing everything up. i.e., would lead to confusion or misunderstandings about love, etc.

32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world! - Interesting. I'm not sure what the question is, but if I could move anywhere else in the world, I'd probably move to a big city like NYC, Vancouver, or LA OR I'd go the opposite and move to a super cozy cottage in a countryside somewhere.

33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back? - My dad

34. What was your last dream about? - Last night I had this bizarre dream that I was camping with Matthias from YouTube and he was being super mean to me lmao. Then all of a sudden I was in Calgary with my sister and we were just like wandering around.

35. Are you a good….[insert anything you’d like here]? - I feel like you're asking if I'm a good person, to which, I think yes.

36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital? - No

37. Have you ever built a snowman? - Yes

38. What is the color of your socks? - I'm not wearing any, but they're usually white or black.

39. What type of music do you like? - Pop, Alternative/alternative pop, folk, country, country-pop, some 80s stuff, acoustic, etc. I span through a few genres, but I think I like something with a catchy melody and good songwriting.

40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets? - Sunrises

41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor? - Vanilla, bc i'm basic

42. What football team do you support? (I will answer in terms of American football as well as soccer) -I don't watch football oops

43. Do you have any scars? - A few. Mostly acne scars rip, but also a big scar on my elbow from when I fell off my bike when I was a kid. I have a few chickenpox scars on my forehead that like to peak out every now and again too.

44. What do you want to be when you graduate? - I already graduated High School, but I just applied to college so the plan is to be a Copy Editor and a novelist on the side.

45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? - That I had a flat stomach

46. Are you reliable? - Tbh no. I think I'm pretty flaky :/

47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be? - How did it turn out?

48. Do you hold grudges? - Yes, unfortunately

49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create? - Maybe like a bird and a chinchilla or a fox or something so it would be like this flying fox thing. Idk. I saw a fantasy drawing on pinterest of a bird/something-else and it was super cute.

50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had? - I don't know actually lol

51. Are you a good liar? - No, because I get super nervous and can't make eye contact or I start smiling. Even worse, sometimes it's both.

52. How long could you go without talking? - I'm pretty quiet, so a long time. Maybe a day, but not two days lol.

53. What has been you worst haircut/style? - I got a perm when I was in the sixth grade and everyone laughed at me so.

54. Have you ever baked your own cake? - Yes

55. Can you do any accents other than your own? - Not well, but sometimes I like to butcher a British and Australian accent. Usually happens when I'm alone which is worse.

56. What do you like on your toast? - Usually I'll just put margarine on it or jam. If I feel like being fancy, I'll put brown sugar and cinnamon on it.

57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of? - I probably doodled some hearts not too long ago

58. What would be you dream car? - Probably a red 1960-70s chevy convertible.

59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain. - I talk to myself in the shower a lot which is weird but i'm just kinda processing my thoughts out loud lmao. Sometimes I'll sing or hum to myself.

60. Do you believe in aliens? - That would be a hard no.

61. Do you often read your horoscope? - No, unless it's in a fun meme like the signs as tv shows or something

62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet? - I have never thought about this before tbh. Maybe S? or R? or C? Idk

63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons? - Dragons

64. What do you think about babies? - Cute

[cupidtyun]

Awee of course! I have love-hate memories when I listen to EDEN bc it reminds me of my ex cjdnckdk but a few of good ones/my favourites are ‘rock+roll’, ‘xo’, ‘crash’, ‘wake up’, ‘love; not wrong’ and ‘icarus’. But I highly recommend the ‘i think you think too much of me’ and ‘vertigo’ album. when or if you do give them a listen do let me know 🤗 and I’m only starting to get into skz actually! Sumi got me to listen to their ‘slump’ on first take on yt and my tiktok’s been showing me so many felix videos, and I’m falling for him hehe so I’m guessing he’s boutta be my bias 🥰

I used to have rollerskates when I was younger actually, but once I grew out of them I never got new pairs:( so it’s been a while since I’ve used rollerskates. And for anime!! I only got back into watching anime last year during the first lockdown actually, before then I haven’t watched anime since I was 13 😬 but my all time favourite is the first season of tokyo ghoul, then last year I spent the summer watching haikyuu, then some studio ghibli movies. but recently I’ve finished horimiya, and fruits basket and now I’m binge watching demon slayer! I’ve been meaning to get into jjk and danganronpa and some murder mystery types. Unless you have some recommendations? c:

and thank you! I just hope I’ll be in a better mindset about my works this summer because I’ve been so scared to post recently ngl, solely because I’m not satisfied and I lowkey keep comparing myself to others ahhh but I’ll get out of that mind set soon enough! I was meant to start a part time job this year but atm it’s not working though public places are gradually starting to open so hopefully I can start working,, ya girl needs that money to buy some clothes 🤪 I’ve been been meaning to buy some back converse run star hikes heheh and then I only recently noticed beomgyu wore them for the tokopedia interview :’)

omg apologies, this got longer than expected- I talk too much HAHAH

omg thanks for the recs sorry it reminds you of ur ex tho i hateee when that happens i cant look at han solo the same bc of mine 🙄 but i’ll def lyk when i give them all a listen!!

ayyy glad sumi is converting u into a stay skz was my ult and it broke my heart when the w**jin thing happened so i’ve been struggling to get back into them the way i used to but they’re so talented and they have a special place in my heart! do you have any songs u like?? i’m in love with get cool, mia, astronaut, mixtape #1 & mixtape #3! and yes felix is such an angel minho & jisung are my biases (and maybe i’m a lil in love with chan but u didn’t hear that from me)

that’s so cool u used to know how to rollerskate! i’ve never tried but they seem fun! i’m glad ur back into anime i’ve been watching since i was 11 and never got out of my weeb phase 🤧 i should def finish the first szn of tokyo ghoul i watched the first two eps but didn’t get to continue it! i gotta finish fruits basket & start horimiya too i hear it’s good and i loved the first szn of fruits basket! i hope you’re enjoying kny i’m salty abt the last arc of it but the rest is rlly good!

i def love jjk u should give it a watch when u get the time and i watched the first szn of danganronpa and imo it’s a rlly fun watch if u like murder mysteries (i love junko shes iconic) i’d also rec assassination classroom (my idea of a perfect anime, it’s got comedy + action + drama and it’s rlly cute) if you haven’t watched hunter x hunter it’s such a classic and one of the best anime of all time imo & bungo stray dogs is rlly good too!

i’m sorry you haven’t been feeling good about your writing it can be rlly hard sometimes to be confident abt your work but always know that while you might think someone else is better than you are, you always will have at least one reader who thinks your works are some of the best on the app! and the more you write the better you’ll get anyway! 💛 if you ever need someone to talk to abt your writing I’m always here!

oof hard same i def need $$ too here’s to hoping we’ll get part time jobs we like this summer! omg those shoes are cute the commitment of matching with beomgyu 👀 I respect it if i could get my hands on taehyun’s red panda shirt i would siiigh